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anotherhumaninthisworld · 2 years ago

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I arrived in Paris and ventured to call at the Convention. But the deputies with whom I was in relations were without influence, and only looked after their personal safety... A lady, who had had relations with Mme. Couthon, proposed to introduce me to her, and advised me, if we succeeded in approaching the husband, to plead the cause of my unfortunate compatriots. She succeeded in overcoming my repugnance, and soon in even making me regard the signal favour of being admitted to the presence of this influential member of the Committee of Public Safety as a Heaven-sent blessing. We arrived... Couthon had a kind face and rather distinguished manners, especially for a time at which the most coarse language and most grotesque ways were common. He occupied, near the Tuileries, a fine apartment, the furniture of which showed great elegance.

He wore a white dressing-gown, and on his arm was a young rabbit which he was feeding with clover. His son, an angelically beautiful boy of three or four, alternately stroked his father's hand and the pretty white animal. These innocent sourroundings and Couthon's great affability charmed me.

”In what way can I be of service to you, Monsieur?” he asked. ”A gentleman who is recommended to me by Madame is entitled to my warmest regard.” So I related the misadventure which had befallen my poor judges, and asked what advice I could give them.

”Acknowledge that the Convention,” said Couthon, ”is to be pitied for being forced to send into the Departments men who are incapable of distinguishing the real enemies of Liberty! These madmen will end by making all Frenchmen hostile to us. As regards your judges, it is probable that they have been warned and are no longer at home. Let them remain hidden. Judging by the good character which you give these honest men, no great search will be made for them. They will escape imprisonment…”

After a momentary silence, he continued:

”Your magistrates are interesting. On reflection, I have given you dangerous advice. They will come to Paris to hide; the police will discover and arrest them; and, remember, Paris prisons are unsafe. Tell them to return home. The authorities will not refuse to allow a gendarme to be at each of their houses, and I will willingly endeavour to make this inconvenience as short as possible.” Persuaded that Couthon was sincere I said to him:

”Monsieur Couthon, you who are all-powerful on the Committee of Public Safety, are you aware that the Revolutionary Tribunal daily condemns unfortunate men who are accused of the same crime as these magistrates? This very day, Monsieur Couthon, sixty-three prisoners are to be executed under this pretext.” This reflection produced an indescribable effect on Couthon: his face became distorted and assumed a tiger-like expression… He made a movement. The rabbit was overturned and the child, weeping, rushed into his mother's arms... Couthon had seized the bell-rope, but the person who had introduced me threw herself upon him and held him in his armchair.

”Escape!” she exclaimed, with an emotion which chilled me with fright. Then, lowering her voice:

”Go and wait for me in the orangery!” I descended with lightning-like rapidity, and reached the end of the Terrasse des Feuillants at the top of my speed. As soon as I saw my guardian angel approaching in the distance, I rushed towards her and asked for an explanation of what had just happened.

”The wretched man,” she replied, ”merely wanted to discover your inmost thoughts. Your cutting reproach was like a dagger-thrust in his heart. I, like yourself, thought that he was sincere! Couthon, like all the members of the Committee of Public Safety, has five or six guardsmen stationed at his house, and he was about to summon them when I held him in his chair. You would have been placed this very day in the fatal tumbril with the sixty-three victims of whom you spoke! Fortunately, I have succeeded in making him ashamed of the crime which he was about to commit against one whom I had introduced to him in confidence. I attentively followed everything you said. He is ignorant of the fact that you do not live in Paris… Return home quickly, but, for fear you are recognised, do not travel by the ordinary route. And, finally, profit by this lesson.”

I set off there and then without seeing anybody in Paris. The judges remained immured until the death of this man Couthon, of whom I cannot think without shuddering.

Romances of the French Revolution (1909) by G. Lenotre, volume 1, page 171-173

And the ”lady” here is Charlotte Robespierre 😂🤣😂

#charlotte tackling couthon in his wheelchair omg i can’t #charlotte robespierre #georges couthon #frev #what charlotte kept silent about in her memoirs #also the guy reporting the story was Fouché’s good friend 😂

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mrsgiovanna · 4 years ago

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A lesson in Recollection (Don Giorno x Wife! Reader)

An awesome request from a nonnie mouse, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks so much for requesting my sweet 💕💜😘💭🐞

TW: brief descriptions of injuries, anxiety and hospitals

Word count: 1.7k

The beeps and hisses of the medical equipment were the only sounds that could be heard in your hospital room. Next to your bed sat your husband, jaw squared off, mouth clenched shut trying to contain his rage. His usually immaculate appearance was disheveled as he clutched your delicate hand against his lips.

He blamed himself for the position you were in by default, a husband was supposed to love and protect, the convention is built into the vows themselves. In reality though, the attack had happened so fast and so suddenly that nobody would have been able to preempt it. None of that mattered now… even though the offenders were severely dealt with, your condition was still the same. It had been a week, and you were still asleep. Your superficial injuries were taken care of by Giorno, but still you wouldn’t wake up. Numerous scans and brain activity tests revealed some swelling in your brain which was slowly subsiding, he simply had to be patient and wait for you to open your eyes again… and fortunately for him, it happened… unfortunately, you stared at him blankly, unable to put a name to his handsome, crestfallen face.

“Tesoro, it’s me… Giorno… your husband,”

“Tesoro? What’s that? I’m… married? I… I don’t feel so good,” you whispered, unable to find your voice after being unconscious for so long.

“Okay, okay amore, I’m getting your doctor, please hang on for me,”

You looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings, at the towering blond man scrambling around with all the white coats, you tried to push yourself up to join the conversation happening just above your head, but your physical strength was virtually nonexistent.

You were given a few days to physically recuperate, being subjected to test upon test to make sure that there was no other underlying cause for your loss of memory. The man who called himself your husband came to see you every day, bringing your favorite flowers, drinks, foods and scents with him in an attempt to help your memory recover. Even though you couldn’t remember him, you felt a sense of peace when you were around him, as if his soul was trying to connect on a subconscious level with your own. He was the only one who was able to talk you down from your bouts of anxiety, or the nightmares that sometimes plagued you. You figured he must have loved you immensely with all the effort he put into trying to get you to remember him.

“Your wife has retrograde amnesia, Mr. Giovanna. Fortunately, the swelling has subsided and her intracranial pressure has managed to consistently remain within normal levels, which is why I’m clearing her to go home. If there is any change in her condition or level of consciousness though, bring her back immediately. The road is a long one, Mr. Giovanna, there are no guarantees that her memories will return, but I have confidence that with the right care, she will be able to recover steadily.” Your doctor spoke honestly, not wanting to create unrealistic expectations, what he didn’t know was that Giorno was the type of person who always achieved whatever he had put his mind to- and right now, he was only concerned with making sure you would come out of this as unscathed as possible. Knowing that you would need all of his attention in the near future, he enlisted the help of his underboss and consigliere to help him run the organization remotely without having anyone privy to what he was actually doing. Both Mista and Fugo willingly obliged, wanting nothing than for you to make a full recovery.

“Thank you doctor, I’ll keep a close eye on her,” Giorno was relieved you were well enough to return home, the villa was painfully quiet and empty without you and he was certain that being in your sanctuary would help you remember your life with him. Looking at you sitting with your legs swinging off the side of your hospital bed and a faraway look in your eyes, you appeared so fragile and innocent.

“Good morning beautiful, how are you feeling today?” you turned to face him with a soft smile.

“Good morning Giorno, I’m okay thanks, and you?” the tender way in which you addressed him, being concerned for his well-being warmed his heart, whether you remembered him or not, you were still you… he was still yours as much as you were his.

“I’m much better now that I’m taking you home, shall we leave my love?”

“I’m ready, let’s go,”

Your doting husband helped you off the bed and took your things, you didn’t want to be wheeled out on the wheelchair, so you both walked out to the luxury car waiting for you. You didn’t expect there to be a driver, or a guard escorting you both… what does he do as job to be able to afford all this you mused. Come to think of it, you didn’t really know what your job was either… you decided to leave those questions for later. The entire drive home, you looked out of the window, the route home was unfamiliar, the imposing villa you were driven up to didn’t even feel real.

“Welcome home my love. Come, let’s get you settled in,”

“We live here? What exactly do we do?” your voice was imbued with curiosity.

“Well, I run a large, multidivisional organization, you are in charge of handing our philanthropic ventures, I’ll explain more later on… are you okay to walk up the stairs? In fact, never mind,” he said as he lifted you off the ground and carried you up the stairs despite your reassurances that you were fine. You looked at the beautifully decorated home, pictures of you both tastefully dotted throughout the hall way. Looking at his gorgeous angled face, you wondered how you both met and fell in love.

“This is our room bella, would you like to take a nap?”

“Gio, I’m fine… sorry, it just slipped out, do you mind if I call you Gio? It just sounds… right,”

“Of course bella, I’d prefer that. Ah! You must be hungry, all those days just eating hospital food… what would you like eat? Our chef will make anything you want, everyone has missed you here, so they’re all pretty excited you’re back home,”

“Really? I’d like to meet everyone later… if they’re not busy,”

“Okay my love,” said Giorno as he went into his closet to fetch something more casual to wear, choosing a simple V-neck t-shirt and jeans, shaking out his hair from its usual style, and leaving it unbound about his shoulders. He walked out to find you sitting at your vanity, looking at the products and the baubles, lifting up your favorite hairbrush and examining its engravings. He walked towards you, and took his place behind you, lifting your hair off your shoulders and bringing it to the back, he took the ornate brush from your grasp and began to gently brush your hair. Your injuries were well healed by now, but Giorno was still extremely careful.

“How does this feel? I’m not hurting you am I?

“No, it feels really nice actually… Gio… would you tell me how we met? Like, what’s our story? I see all the pictures around and we look so happy,”

“We were happy, bella, we still are, we’ll get back what was lost and create even better memories on the way… we met 10 years ago, we were just stupid ambitious kids back then, both 15 years old with heads full of dreams. I won’t go into detail, but we had very… unique occupations and abilities. We’ve been through a lot together, and rebuilt this organization from the ground up. We’ve been together as a couple for seven years and married for the past two,”

“Sounds like quite a journey for a pair as young as us… and now there’s this… I’m sorry, I’m sure you didn’t imagine something like this would happen,” the apologetic quality of your voice saddened Giorno, the last thing he wanted was for you to feel like this was your fault.

“We have fought against worse my love, and just like that we’ll handle this together… come, no sad faces now,” said Giorno as he braided some flowers into your hair.

“Wow, you’re good at this… where did you get the flowers from, you didn’t move an inch?” you asked, admiring his handiwork.

With a smile he replied that he’ll show you a bit later on, which you accepted. The rest of day was spent by talking about some of the interesting things that had happened to you both in the past. Being wary of overwhelming you, Giorno didn’t go into great detail about the more tragic experiences. When it came time for you to sleep, he suggested he sleep in one of the guest rooms if you felt uncomfortable, but you asked him to stay with you, feeling guilty that you were the reason he felt like he had to behave like a guest in his own home.

As you got more comfortable, and built up your strength with your recovery, Giorno slowly started reintegrating you back into your old routine, as difficult as it was, you had made great strides in re-learning key bits of information. Your mental fortitude had constantly reminded your husband exactly why he had fallen in love with you, the least he could do with your trying so hard, was to match your effort, working tirelessly with you on the exercises that your therapist suggested, recreating pivotal events so you could experience some semblance of what you would have when it initially occurred, and most importantly, being the support you needed when things became overwhelming.

Slowly you were reintroduced to Mista, Fugo and Trish, reestablishing the friendships almost immediately. You were grateful for the wonderful people who surrounded you, from the staff at the villa to Giorno’s closest associates who constantly sought to aid in your recovery. Most of all though, you were grateful for Giorno, you were aware of how much he had done and continues to do to aid you. While you were cognizant of everything you had been through together, having regained most of your memory through your combined efforts, what had remained altered though, was how you felt about Giorno, this whole experience solidifying your bond even more than you thought possible, it had just reaffirmed that you both would be able to overcome even the most dire of situations if you handled it together.

#giorno giovanna x reader #giorno x reader #giorno giovanna #giorno #don giorno #don giovanna #giogio #jjba x reader #jojo x reader #vento aureo #jjba #golden wind #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken

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dustedmagazine · 4 years ago

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Dusted Mid-Year Round-Up: Part 2, Dr. Pete Larson to Young Slo-Be

James Brandon Lewis

The mid-year exchange continues with the second half of the alphabet and another round of Dusted writers reviewing other people’s favorite records. Today’s selection runs the gamut from Afro-beat to hip hop to experimental music and includes some of this year’s best jazz records. Check out part one if you missed it yesterday.

Dr. Pete Larson and His Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band — Damballah (Dagoretti Records)

Damballah by Dr. Pete Larson and his Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band

Who Picked it? Mason Jones

Did we review it? No, but Jennifer Kelly said about his previous record, “It’s authentic not to some musicological conception of what nyatiti music should sound like, but to the instincts and proclivities of the musicians involved.”

Bryon Hayes’ take:

Judging from Jenny’s review, Dr. Pete Larson hasn’t really changed his modus operandi much since last year’s self-titled release. Well, he has appeared to have dropped vocalist Kat Steih and drummer Tom Hohman, who aren’t credited with an appearance on Damballah. Sonically, this album feels more polished than its predecessor. There’s a richness that was lacking before, a sense of clarity that Larson seems to have added here. He still hypnotizes with his nyatiti but doesn’t lose himself behind the other players. That sense of mesmerizing repetition of short passages on the resonant lute-like instrument is what sets the music of the Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band apart from other rock groups who play in the psychedelic vein. It’s easy to get lost in the intricate plucking patterns as the guitars and synths swirl about. The rhythms bounce cleverly against those created by the percussion, anchoring the songs to solid ground. Balancing the airy and the earthy, Dr. Peter Larson and His Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band create a cosmic commotion perfect for contemplation.

James Brandon Lewis / Red Lily Quintet — Jesup Wagon (TAO Forms)

Jesup Wagon by James Brandon Lewis / Red Lily Quintet

Who recommended it? Derek Taylor

Did we review it? Yes, Derek said, “’Fallen Flowers’ and ‘Seer’ contain sections of almost telepathic convergence, the former and the closing ‘Chemurgy’ culminating in Lewis’ spoken words inculcating the import of his subject.”

Tim Clarke’s take:

Tenor saxophonist and composer James Brandon Lewis demonstrates his control of the instrument in the opening moments of Jesup Wagon’s title track. Before his Red Lily Quintet bandmates join the fray, he alternates between hushed ululations and full-blooded honks, inviting the listener to lean in conspiratorially. Once the rest of the band fire up, cornet player Kirk Knuffke, bassist William Parker, cellist Chris Hoffman and drummer Chad Taylor lock into a loose, muscular shuffle. Their collective chemistry is immediately evident, and each player has the opportunity to shine across this diverse set’s 50-minute runtime. I’m particularly drawn to the rapid-fire rhythmic runs on “Lowlands of Sorrow,” the gorgeous cello on “Arachis,” and the spacious, mbira-laced “Seer.” There’s something about the mournful horn melody of the final piece, “Chemurgy,” that sends me back to first hearing Ornette Coleman’s “Lonely Woman” — and, just like that, I’m excited about the prospect of exploring jazz again, for the first time in a long time. Great pick, Derek.

Roscoe Mitchell & Mike Reed — The Ritual And The Dance (Astral Spirits)

the Ritual and the Dance by Roscoe Mitchell & Mike Reed

Who recommended it? Derek Taylor

Did we review it? Yes, Derek wrote, “Roscoe Mitchell remains an improvisational force to be reckoned with.”

Andrew Forell’s take:

For 17-plus minutes, Roscoe Mitchell solos on his soprano with barely a pause, the rush of notes powered by circular breathing, as drummer Mike Reed’s controlled clatter counterpoints Mitchell’s exploration of his instrument’s range and tonal qualities in what sounds like a summation of his long career at the outer edge of jazz. It‘s an extraordinary beginning to this performance, recorded live in 2015. On first listen it sounds chaotic, but shapes emerge in Mitchell’s sound, and Reed’s combination of density and silence complements, punctuates and supports in equal measure. After an incisive solo workout from Reed combining clanging metal and rolling toms, Mitchell swaps to tenor and the pace changes. Longer, slower notes, a rougher, reed heavy tone and a lighter touch from Reed. Having not closely followed Mitchell’s work since his days in The Art Ensemble Of Chicago, this performance was a revelation and will have me searching back through his catalog.

The Notwist — Vertigo Days (Morr Music)

Vertigo Days by The Notwist

Who recommended it? Tim Clarke

Did we review it? Yes, Tim said, “The Notwist really know how to structure a front-to-back listening experience, and this is emphatically a work of art best appreciated as a whole.”

Arthur Krumins’ take:

In his review of Vertigo Days, Tim Clarke highlights the “multiple layers of drifting, shifting instrumentation.” It is an album that seems unbound by adherence to a set instrument lineup, and it moves quickly between moods both frenetic and contemplative. However, due to a careful mixing and an unforced approach to genre expectations, it is a surprising and varied listen that bears repeated scrutiny. The touchstones of the sound are at times the motorik beat of krautrock, at others the ethereal indie pop of their melodies and the quality of their singing. It feels like the perfect quirky coffee shop album, just out there enough to create a vibe, but tactful enough to take you along for the ride.

Dorothea Paas — Anything Can’t Happen (Telephone Explosion)

Anything Can't Happen by Dorothea Paas

Who picked it? Arthur Krumins.

Did we review it? No.

Eric McDowell’s take:

In one sense, it’s fair to say that Dorothea Paas’s debut album opens with a false start: A single note sounded and then retreated from, fingers sliding up and down the fretboard with the diffidence of a throat clearing. Yet what gesture could more perfectly introduce an album so marked by uncertainty, vulnerability, and naked self-assessment?

If Anything Can’t Happen is an open wound, it’s a wound Paas willingly opens: “I’m not lonely now / Doing all the things I want to and working on my mind / Sorting through old thoughts.” That doesn’t make the pain any less real — though it does make it more complex. “It’s so hard to trust again / When you can’t even trust yourself,” Paas sings on the utterly compelling title track, her gaze aiming both inward and outward. Elsewhere she admits: “I long for a body closer to mine / But I don’t want to seek, I just want to find.” Instrumentally, Paas and her bandmates manage to temper an inclination toward static brooding with propulsive forward motion, a balance that suits the difficult truth — or better yet, difficult truce — the album arrives at in the climactic “Frozen Window”: “How can I open to love again, like a plant searches for light through a frozen window? / Can I be loved, or is it all about control? / I will never know until I start again.” In the spirit of starting again, Anything Can’t Happen ends with a doubling down on the opening prelude, reprising and extending it — no false start to be found.

Dominic Pifarely Quartet — Nocturnes (Clean Feed)

Nocturnes by Dominique Pifarély Quartet

Who recommended it? Jason Bivins

Did we review it? No

Derek Taylor’s take:

Pifarely and I actually go way back in my listening life, specifically to Acoustic Quartet, an album the French violinist made for ECM as a co-leader with countryman clarinetist Louis Sclavis in 1994. Thirty-something at the time, his vehicle for that venture was an improvising chamber ensemble merging classical instrumentation and extended techniques with jazz and folk derived influences. The results, playful and often exhilaratingly acrobatic, benefited greatly from austere ECM house acoustics. Nearly three decades distant, Nocturnes is a different creature, delicate and darker hued in plumage and less enamored of melody, harmony and rhythm, at least along conventional measures. Drones and other textures are regular elements of the interplay between the leader’s strings, the piano of Antonin Rayon and the sparse braiding and shadings of bassist Bruno Chevillon and drummer Francois Merville. Duos also determine direction, particular on the series of titular miniatures that are as much about space as they are centered in sound. It’s delightful to get reacquainted after so much time apart.

The Reds Pinks & Purples — Uncommon Weather (Slumberland/Tough Love)

Uncommon Weather by The Reds, Pinks & Purples

Who picked it? Jennifer Kelly

Did we review it? Yes, Jennifer said, “Uncommon Weather is undoubtedly the best of the Reds, Pinks & Purples discs so far, an album that is damned near perfect without seeming to try very hard.”

Bill Meyer’s take:

Sometimes a record hits you where you live. Glenn Donaldson’s too polite to do you any harm, but he not only knows where you live, he knows your twin homes away from home, the record store and the club where you measure your night by how many bands’ sets separate you from last call. He knows the gushing merch-table mooches and the old crushes that casually bring the regulars down, and he also knows how to make records just like the ones that these folks have been listening to since they started making dubious choices. Uncommon Weather sounds like a deeply skilled recreation of early, less chops-heavy Bats, and if that description makes sense to you, so will this record.

claire rousay — A Softer Focus (American Dreams Records)

a softer focus by Claire Rousay

Who picked it? Bryon Hayes

Did we review it? Yes, Bryon Hayes wrote, “These field recordings of the mundane, when coupled with the radiance of the musical elements, are magical.”

Ian Mathers’ take:

In a weird way (because they are very different works from very different artists), A Softer Focus reminds me a bit of Robert Ashley’s Private Parts (The Album). Both feel like the products of deep focus and concentration but wear their rigor loosely, and both feel like beautifully futile attempts to capture or convey the rich messiness of human experience. But although there is a musicality to Private Parts, Ashley is almost obsessed by language and language acts, and even though the human voice is more present than ever in rousay’s work (not just sampled or field recorded, but outright albeit technologically smeared singing on a few tracks) it feels like it reaches to a place in that experience beyond words. The first few times I played it I had moments where I was no longer sure exactly what part of what I was hearing were coming from my speakers versus from outside my apartment, and as beautiful as the more conventional ambient/drone aspects of A Softer Focus are (including the cello and violin heard throughout), it’s that kind of intoxicating disorientation, of almost feeling like I’m experiencing someone else’s memory, that’s going to stay with me the longest.

M. Sage — The Wind Of Things (Geographic North)

The Wind of Things by M. Sage

Who recommended it? Bryon Hayes

Did we review it? No

Bill Meyer’s take:

Matthew Sage’s hybrid music gets labeled as ambient by default. Sure, it’s gentle enough to be ignorable, but Sage’s combination of ruminative acoustic playing (mostly piano and guitar, with occasional seasoning from reeds, violin, banjo, and percussion) and memory-laden field recordings feels so personal that it’s hard to believe he’d really be satisfied with anyone treating this stuff as background music. But that combination of the placid and the personal may also be The Wind of Things’ undoing since it’s a bit too airy and undemonstrative to make an impression.

Skee Mask — Pool (Ilian Tape)

ITLP09 Skee Mask - Pool by Skee Mask

Who picked it? Patrick Masterson

Did we review it? No

Robert Ham’s take:

Pool is an appropriate title for the new album by Munich electronic artist Bryan Müller. The record is huge and deep, with its 18 tracks clocking in at around 103 minutes. And Müller has pointedly only released the digital version of Pool through Bandcamp, adding it a little hurdle to fans who just want to pick and choose from its wares for their playlists. Dipping one’s toes in is an option, but the only way to truly appreciate the full effect is to dive on in.

Though Müller filled Pool up with around five years’ worth of material, the album plays like the result of great deliberation. It flows with the thoughtfulness and intention of an adventurous DJ set, with furious breakbeat explosions like “Breathing Method” making way for the languorous ambient track “Ozone” and the unbound “Rio Dub.” Then, without warning, the drum ‘n’ bass breaks kick in for a while.

The full album delights in those quick shifts into new genres or wild seemingly disparate sonic connections happening within the span of a single song. But again, these decisions don’t sound like they were made carelessly. Müller took some time with this one to get the track list just right. But if there is one thread that runs along the entirety of Pool, it is the air of joy that cuts through even its downcast moments. The splashing playfulness is refreshing and inviting.

Speaker Music — Soul-Making Theodicy (Planet Mu)

Soul-Making Theodicy by Speaker Music

Who picked it? Mason Jones

Did we review it? No

Robert Ham’s take:

The process by which DeForrest Brown Jr., the artist known as Speaker Music, created his latest EP sounds almost as exciting as the finished music. If I understand it correctly — and I’m not entirely sure that I do — he created rhythm tracks using haptic synths, a Push sequencer, and a MIDI keyboard, that he sent through Ableton and performed essentially a live set of abstract beats informed by free jazz, trap and marching band. Or as Brown calls them “stereophonic paintings.”

Whatever term you care to apply to these tracks and however they were made, the experience of listening to them is a dizzying one. A cosmic high that takes over the synapses and vibrates them until your vision becomes blurry and your word starts to smear together like fog on a windshield. Listening to this EP on headphones makes the experience more vertiginous if, like I did, you try to unearth the details and sounds buried within the centerpiece track “Rhythmatic Music For Speakers,” a 33-minute symphony of footwork stuttering and polyrhythms. Is that the sound of an audience responding to this sensory overload that I hear underneath it all? Or is that wishful imaginings coming from a mind hungry for the live music experience?

The Telescopes — Songs of Love And Revolution (Tapete)

Songs Of Love And Revolution by the telescopes

Who recommended it? Robert Ham

Did we review it? No.

Andrew Forell’s take:

Songs Of Love And Revolution glides along on murky subterranean rhythms that evoke Mo Tucker’s heartbeat toms backed with thick bowel-shaking bass lines. Somewhere in the murk Stephen Lawrie’s murmured vocals barely surface as he wrings squalls of noise from his guitar to create a dissonant turmoil to contrast the familiarity of what lies beneath. The effect is at once hypnotic and joltingly thrilling, similar to hearing Jesus And Mary Chain for the first time but played a at pace closer to Bedhead. A kind of slowcore shoegaze, its mystery enhanced by what seems deliberately monochrome production that forces and rewards close attention. When they really let go on “We See Magic And We Are Neutral, Unnecessary” it hits like The Birthday Party wrestling The Stooges. So yeah, pretty damn good.

Leon Vynehall — Rare, Forever (Ninja Tune)

Rare, Forever by LEON VYNEHALL

Who recommended it? Patrick Masterson

Did we review it? No.

Jason Bivins’ take:

I was amused to see Leon Vynehall’s album tucked into the expansive “Unknown genre” non-category. This is, as is often the case with these mid-year exchanges, a bit far afield from the kind of music I usually spin. Much of it is, I suppose, rooted in house music. Throughout these tracks, there are indeed some slinky beats that’ll get you nodding your head while prepping the dinner or while studying in earnest. There’s plenty to appreciate on the level of grooves and patterns, but he closer you listen, the more subversive, sneaky details you notice. The opening “Ecce! Ego!” isn’t quite as brash as the title would suggest, featuring some playfully morphed voices, old school synth patches and snatches of instrumentalism. But after just a couple minutes, vast cosmic sounds start careening around your brainpan while a metal bar drops somewhere in the audial space. Did that just happen? you wonder as the groove continues. Moments of curiosity and even discomfort are plopped down, sometimes as transitions (like the closing vocal announcement on “In>Pin” — “like a moth” — that introduces the echo-canyon of “Mothra”) but usually as head-scrambling curveballs. Startled voices or flutes or subterranean sax bubble up from beneath deep house thrum, then are gone in ways that are arresting and deceptive. I still don’t know what to make of the lounge-y closing to “Snakeskin – Has-Been” or the unexpected drone monolith of “Farewell! Magnus Gabbro.” In its way, Vynehall’s music is almost like what you’d get if Graham Lambkin or Jason Lescalleet made a house record. Pretty rich stuff.

Michael Winter — single track (Another Timbre)

single track by Michael Winter

Who recommended it? Eric McDowell

Did we review it? Not yet!

Mason Jones’ take:

Over its 45 minutes, Michael Winter’s 2015 composition slowly accelerates and accumulates, starting from an isolated violin playing slightly arrhythmic, single fast strokes. The playing, centered around a single root note, seems almost random, but flashes of melodic clusters make it clear they're not. After nine minutes other players have joined in and there's a developing drone, as things sort of devolve, with atonal combinations building. By the one-third mark everything has slowed down significantly, and the players are blending together, with fewer melodies standing out. Instead, it's almost more drone than not; and at a half hour in, most of the strings have been reduced to slowly changing tones. As we near the end we’re hearing beautiful layers of string drones, descending into the final few minutes of nearly static notes. It's an intriguing and oddly listenable composition given its atonality. The early moments bring to mind Michael Nyman, and the later movements summon thoughts of Tony Conrad and La Monte Young, but it's clearly different from any of them, and more than the sum of those parts.

Young Slo-Be — Red Mamba (KoldGreedy Entertainment / Thizzler On The Roof)

youtube

Who picked it? Ray Garraty

Did we review it? No.

Ian Mathers’ take:

The 12 tracks on Red Mamba fly by in a little over 27 minutes (not a one breaks the three-minute mark) but the result doesn’t feel slight so much as pared down to a sharpness you might cut yourself on. Stockon’s Young Slo-Be only seems to have one flow (or maybe it’d be more accurate to say he only seems interested in one) but he knows how to wield it with precision and force, and if the subject matter hews closely to the accepted canon of gangbanger concerns, Slo-Be delivers it all with vivid language and the studied, superior disdain of an older brother explaining the world to you and busting your chops at the same time. The tracks on Red Mamba all come from different producers, but Slo-Be consistently chooses spectral, eerie, foreboding backgrounds for these songs, even when adding piano and church bells (on “Asshole”), dog barks (“21 Thoughts”) or even Godfather-esque strings (the closing “Rico Swavo”). What’s the old line about the strength of street knowledge? These are different streets, and different knowledge.

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randomoranges · 4 years ago

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and here we are for part two of the Beast hahaha

do you like supposed heartache???? because this is where it’s at. also fair mention of minor character death?

this is legit the fic of “have you ever wondered things about étienne? fear not for i may provide answers!)

toobadnoonereadsthesehahahahaha

The Five Times Étienne Fell in Love

PART II

They both quiet at the sound of her name and Edward is convinced he feels Étienne’s hand shake in his own. He rubs soothing circles with his thumb on Étienne’s hand and gives him the time to gather his next set of thoughts, letting him know that he’s here and that there’s no hurry.

“Do you still think of her?” He finally asks after a while, his curiosity getting the best of him, while also wondering if Étienne hasn’t decided that this little venture down memory lane is over.

“Sometimes,” Étienne answers after a beat, “If I hear her name, or out of the blues. Not as often as before, but – sometimes... Is it silly that I still have my wedding band?” He asks, touching the spot on his finger where the band must have sat, once, years and decades and centuries ago, quiet, as if afraid Edward will tell him that it is indeed stupid for him to still be attached to it. He doesn’t mention the grave he can no longer visit or the memories that seem to fade with each new year. He keeps those thoughts to himself and focuses on what he can still remember.

“No; I don’t think so. She was your wife, after all – you clearly cared for her.” He reassures him, offering him a soft smile.

It still comes as a shock to him, so many years later, that Étienne had been married. Willingly. That he’d had a wife and played house for a while. It’s such an un-Étienne like thing to do, but then again, Étienne had been a different person at the time. He tries to picture his boyfriend as a married man and wonders what he would have looked like; what he would have worn and such and mourns the fact that there are probably no images of the event.

“I did,” He admits, serious as all else. “I still remember how I met Charlotte,” He starts with a small smile ghosting over his face, his look far away as he thinks back to the encounter. “Ironically, we met at church. I was leaving mass and she was outside, begging someone to help her out. She – didn’t look good; ratty clothes, dishevelled and no one went to her, which was ironic, considering we were leaving church. There was something about her that pulled me to her – wanted me to help her. She was a little hesitant at first, but she came home with me. She was able to change and wash and after I made sure she ate something; I was able to get part of her story out.”

“She was from out of town – a day’s ride away, more or less and she was in the city since she’d gotten word that her brother was supposed to arrive that day. I never found out if her brother was real or not, but I never questioned it. She had no money, so she couldn’t stay anywhere in the city and when we went to check out the convents and such, they were all very full. The idea of letting her out on the streets was out of the question, so I let her stay at mine despite of what others could say. It just felt very – un-catholic to leave someone in need out in the cold. Charlotte obviously didn’t want to inconvenience me, but I really didn’t mind. I had space, we could make it work. I didn’t think it would turn into a semi-permanent thing, but the alternative didn’t sit well with me.”

Edward isn’t surprised; Étienne’s always been generous with his time and has had a tendency of looking out for others, in his own way. Étienne doing things his own way, regardless of what others could think also doesn’t surprise him. He supposes it’s one of the many qualities he’s admired in him.

“I still remember waking up that first morning and finding out that she’d made breakfast for me, as a way of thanking me for letting her stay. It seemed unnecessary, but she wanted me to know that she wasn’t taking advantage of me and that she really did appreciate it. I wasn’t about to complain – she was a good cook and even if I managed better then, it’s always a treat to have someone make food for you.”

“We struck a friendship from that day on and I soon realised that it was nice coming home and having someone there to unwind with and talk. It was incredibly less lonely. Even without the sex, I enjoyed her company and didn’t mind having her around. She was vivacious and had a sharp mind. We could talk for hours on end, really.”

Edward’s read many of Étienne’s letters about his feelings of being alone and it strikes him that then that his friend has always been after companionship, in one way or another, just to feel a connection. He even remembers Étienne writing to him about a new type of celebration they had in his city and how wonderful it was to welcome the first boat back to the port towards the end of winter. He’d thought it endearing at first and maybe a little silly, but he now realises that there had always been more to it and that Étienne has played a careful game of disguising his real feelings behind frivolous, silly things.

“Of course, everyone in town thought she was the devil, or at the very least that our arrangement was improper. Her hair was the colour of fire, they said, or an unaccompanied woman arriving out of nowhere was a bad omen. Hell, they even went after me, saying that I had bedded her and taken her virtue. Or that we were both going to hell for being unmarried and living together. I thought that was very hypocritical of them, considering the Son of God had befriended all sorts of people and had welcomed them all in his circle, but regardless what the people said, Charlotte was none of those things. She was better than all of them combined.”

“Growing up, marriage wasn’t what it is today – you know that; it was an arrangement of convenience – a best move made between families and such. There was none of this love garbage to it and frankly, it sounded a lot less complicated to me. I thought maybe being a city meant romantic love wasn’t something we could feel, since we represent our people or whatever – but then Jacques fell for Suzette and if anything, theirs was real, so surely, there had to be a way...” He trails off for a moment and sighs.

“Even after my talk with Jacques I didn’t get how it worked for him and at first, I didn’t even consider or think Charlotte and I would get married. She was my friend and she was staying with me until she could figure something out. On top of that, I saw what marriage did to some and I didn’t want that. Young women married off to older gentlemen, forced to have a slew of children, not ever able to do what they wanted – to explore the world and be who they wanted to be... No wonder Élyse didn’t have any interest in that either! I didn’t understand what the appeal was! But then, for all the horror stories I heard, I also heard of – feel good stories. People who married someone their parents had set them up with and then learned to love. I remembered some of my friends who’d seem happy in their new lives and – it didn’t look so bad. I thought that was it! This was how I was going to fall in love! If they could learn to love their partners, then maybe that could happen to me as well.”

Edward gives him a sympathetic smile. It’s endearing, to a point, how hard Étienne believed that eventually these “norms” would apply to him and yet, he also feels a little bad for the young man Étienne had been at the time, full of hopes and frustrations as he tried valiantly to fit in and be “normal” in his own way. He gets it, though, having gone down similar self-doubt patterns and having tried to “fit in” as well. He supposes it’s a mutual struggle many like themselves have gone through, but it still remains jarring to hear that even someone like Étienne, who was usually so self-assured and confident, had gone through such a phase.

“We became mutually attracted to one another a few months after Charlotte had shown up in town. Ironically, neither of us had wanted to bring it up, afraid the other would take it the wrong way. I didn’t want to seem like I expected her to sleep with me because I was letting her live with me and she didn’t want me to think that she was a harlot. Still, one night, after we’d each gone to our own quarters, we both found ourselves back in the kitchen around the same time, unable to sleep. I put on the kettle to make something warm and we started chatting, as we often did. It was relatively dark and between the oil lamps, waiting for the water to boil and everything else, we found ourselves huddling closer and closer for warmth. Somewhere along the conversation and the waiting, she leaned in close to me and made a grab for my hand.”

“It was all very hesitant – halting touches, curious looks, but it was clear what we both wanted and finally, I asked her – if I could kiss her – she was so close to me and so beautiful, but she could have said no and it would have been that. I wasn’t about to force something she didn’t want – never have and never will. Instead, she pressed closer to me and kissed me first. It was a beautiful thing, really, and it’s a good thing I had half a mind to shut everything off, because we never did get around to tea and instead we went back to my bedroom.”

There’s a soft smile that blooms on Étienne’s face; nostalgic and sweet and Edward dares to think that that in itself is a thing of beauty. Étienne’s hands get lost in Mercury’s fur and for a moment, he remains silent, most likely reliving his memory and whatever images his mind can still conjure of Charlotte. Edward doesn’t interrupt, knowing how powerful these memories can be.

“Afterwards, she quietly admitted that she wasn’t a virgin, afraid I would judge her for it, as though that was supposed to be the end all of things and I reassured her by telling her that I wasn’t either. It must have been the right thing to say, because she laughed and laughed. At the time, it was the greatest of sounds and I wanted to hear it often. We stayed up all night, spending our time together and navigating this new thing between us. One moment we would be kissing, the next we would be talking and in the end, we stayed up to watch the sunrise together.”

“I can’t say that it’s when I fell in love with her, but it felt as though I had found an equal of sorts. In fact, I’m not really sure when it happened, but I know I did come to love her over the three years we were together. She was free to do whatever she pleased during the day and I never demanded to know her every whereabouts. I liked that we could each do our own thing and see to our own occupations and that we could coexist side by side. We always made it a point to have breakfast together at the very least and it was so beautifully domestic and peaceful. For the first time, I felt – happy. Truly happy. It was a good life, really.”

“The rest of the community eased up on her when they saw that no ill had befallen me and that no illegitimate children had appeared nine months later, but – they never fully welcomed her. She was still cast out and I could tell it bothered her. She tried to immerse herself in the city; tried to find work and do something of her days, but few were the people who genuinely tried to connect with her and it angered me.

Charlotte was so kind to them – never had a bad word to say and she was always aware of the families that were struggling or those who were in need, but no one ever showed her an ounce of that same compassion. She had never done anything wrong to them – she’d just been an unfortunate woman down on her luck. I could only imagine what would have happened to her had I not stepped in that day. And yet, even if I never really knew her real story, even if sometimes I felt as though she was keeping a secret from me, something old and ancient still pulled me to her and I never quite understood where that feeling came from. A sort of – connection. She never offered any background on herself, other than a brother who was supposed to arrive that never did. She had no family she spoke of and I never pried. We were happy together in our arrangement and that worked for me.”

“A little over a year after we started sleeping together, she came to me one day, frazzled and in obvious distress. She’d been out all day and I had noticed that something had been preoccupying her for the past few weeks. Every time I had asked her, she had brushed me off and told me that it was nothing, but now she sat me down and announced that she was with child. I – didn’t believe her. It was impossible. I couldn’t have children – people like me couldn’t have children. Clearly, I would have known if it was possible. Jacques and Suzette didn’t have a flock of their own and lord knew they were enthusiastic enough about the process of it – so there had to be a mistake.”

“Charlotte assured me that she was – the doctor had confirmed it for her earlier that day and for as much as I was scared shitless, I was also – excited - giddy. At whatever fluke had caused this. It didn’t matter to me if I wasn’t the biological father – I never forced her to stay with me, even though she repeatedly told me that she hadn’t gone behind my back. I would figure out the logistics later, but for the briefest of moments, I felt legitimately like a real human – I was going to have a family. I was with a wonderful person. I’d make it work out – somehow. At the time, it didn’t matter that eventually, both Charlotte and our child would grow and look older than me. All those issues were secondary to the immense joy I felt.”

It still surprises Edward to hear this part of the tale, much as it had when he had read about it, years and years ago. Not only because of Charlotte’s pregnancy, but by Étienne’s reaction as well. He had never considered his friend to be one who’d want children, if he could and he tries to picture Étienne with kids he’d be responsible for.

“Of course, the first proper thing to do was to marry her. This was my chance to try this very human ritual and so I made sure to be real proper about it. I think it cemented the fact for Charlotte that I wasn’t about to boot her out because she was expecting. It reassured her in a way and the idea had never crossed my mind. I cared for her deeply – I loved her even and we would be a real family!”

“We went as far as making the proper announcements of our engagement, but we were quick to marry. Élyse was our only witness. I didn’t want Charlotte to be met with more scorn and I wanted everyone to know that she was a wonderful person and that if they gave her a chance, they would also get to see that.”

“Beyond that we were giddy – at being together and married and at this child we’d be welcoming into the world. It felt surreal, like a fever dream – too good to last. There was so much to do that I didn’t even bother letting anyone know – only El and you in my letter. Élyse was just as surprised that Charlotte was expecting, but she didn’t buy into the idea that it was mine. Still, she let me have this happiness, but warned me that both Charlotte and the baby would age. She knew I would be wrecked when they’d go. I ignored her and told her to mind her own business. I would cherish this family. I would watch over each generation if I had to. I logically knew they’d grow old and die – that anything could happen to them, but it was a problem for later and I pushed it aside. This time around, I wanted to focus on my new growing family and found happiness.”

Edward wants to interrupt the story and make a comment or two at how it still sounds like the wildest of tales, however when he spares his boyfriend a glance, he still has that faraway look on his face. He seems happy and Edward doesn’t want to change that, even if it seems as though Étienne is no longer talking to him and simply reminiscing out loud.

“It seemed as though everything was working in my favour, but once more, winter showed up and took away everything I liked.” And just like that, a cloud comes crashing over Étienne’s previous good mood and chases his smile away. Edward wordlessly reaches for his hand and holds on to it, knowing what comes next. “Charlotte was six months pregnant when she woke up one morning in intense pain. It was snowing hard and when I went to find the doctor or the midwife, there was no way I could make it out. The snow was up to my knees and Charlotte wasn’t doing so good. Even having cleared the snow the night before, a freak blizzard had trapped us in and no matter how fast I tried to remove the snow, it wasn’t fast enough and Charlotte went from bad to worse.”

Étienne’s voice wobbles and breaks and when he next tries to take in a breath, it’s shaky at best.

“You don’t have to tell me the rest, if you don’t want to...” Edward offers gently. The last thing he wants to do is to put Étienne through even more heartache. That wasn’t the point of his initial question. He appreciates that his boyfriend is being open and is sharing this information with him, but not to the point of causing distress.

“It’s fine, really – this part always gets me. I want to tell you.” Étienne’s smile is watery and Edward gives his hand a tight squeeze. His boyfriend holds on to it as he goes on with his story and Edward finds himself wishing he could free Étienne of his burden.

“I knew nothing of childbirth, but I – I tried to save them both. I did what I could. I really did. The neighbour, bless her, came to help me out, having assisted with births all her life and – despite our best efforts, we lost them both. The baby was stillborn and Charlotte died a little later; whether her heart gave out or she lost too much blood is irrelevant. They were both gone. Taken away from me before I’d even had a chance to cherish them properly. I thought I’d have years with them – that we could be a proper family. Instead I barely had a taste and I finally knew what real heartbreak was.”

Edward finds his own eyes clouded with tears and he tries to be discreet when he wipes them clean. He notices Étienne do the same with the sleeve of his sweater and he brings an arm up to his back to rub gentle circles on it. Étienne leans into the contact and into his side and Edward kisses the top of his head as his boyfriend takes a moment to recompose himself. He says nothing when he feels Étienne’s shoulders shake and when Étienne excuses himself to blow his nose, he says nothing about it either.

Even after all these years and centuries, Edward feels as though this is only the second time Étienne has opened up about this chapter of his life. Already, his boyfriend isn’t one to share the emotional details of his life and he supposes that this had been a story he’d kept closer still to his heart.

He’s convinced the conversation will come to an end after that, but despite Étienne being too vulnerable and raw, he decides to continue on, now that he’s started, once he’s disposed of the tissue. The dam has been opened and he may as well let everything out. He resettles against Edward and the next part comes out like a whisper, a confession he makes to him and that Edward listens to attentively.

“I never wanted to live through that ever again, so I did my best to veer away from relationships. They weren’t my thing anyways. People fell in love left right and center and I didn’t have the heart to be the bearer of bad news. So I kept to my flings and figured this was the life I would lead. It would be easier for everyone, in the long run.”

Edward would like to believe that Étienne’s plan had worked out, yet he knows there is still much more left to the story.--

Part I

Part III

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #edward murphy #étienne maisonneuve #fic #projocanondoko

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spacebatisluvd · 5 years ago

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Summary: Bow tries to be friendly, Hordak does not, and Catra is...Catra.

Content warning: mention of dissection and experimentation, mild dehumanizing language regarding Imp and Hordak’s failed clones, references to Prime and his purification ritual, Hordak being generally grumpy and unhappy being around anyone who isn’t Entrapta.

The journey to Salineas was a brief one. The She-Ra, Catra, the archer, and the young Queen arrived in the First Ones’ ship—which Entrapta greeted with a happy squeal of, ‘Darla!’—to escort him to Salineas. It was unnecessary, in his opinion. This was part of a peace treaty. A treaty he’d helped negotiate. He’d agreed to this willingly—happily, even. There was no need for them to act as guards.

He resented the others’ presence, but reminded himself that he was heading into hostile territory. He would likely be facing worse. So he lifted his chin and bore their scrutiny—and Catra’s awkward, nervous glances—with dignity.

Entrapta, as always, helped. She seemed oblivious to any tension between the other passengers, intent on coaxing Darla into a system’s upgrade. Assisting her with this was at least comfortable and familiar. Emily often resisted the various patches and software updates they designed for her, no matter that Entrapta promised she’d never do anything to compromise Emily’s core personality codes. Hordak was beginning to suspect it was a game, much like Imp’s games of “keep away”.

As they worked, the archer—named ‘Bow’, naturally; whatever his opinion of the planet itself, Hordak had always been pleased by the sensible nature of their naming conventions—approached. He glanced between Entrapta and Hordak, hands behind his back and rocking a little on his toes. “Sooo, how’ve you two been?”

Hordak’s eyes narrowed. He looked at Entrapta, not sure how to answer. Was this an incredibly blatant attempt at gathering intel? To what end? They weren’t at war—

“We’re great!” Entrapta said, voice echoing from inside the access panel she was currently half-buried in. “I’m so happy to have so many friends at home now! And it’s been nice being able to get to know Hordak better now that he’s not trying to conquer the world. I have so much new data to analyze and process!”

Bow looked between them again, a hesitant smile making its way to his face. “That’s. Great! I’m. Glad to hear it.” He looked up at Hordak, who crossed his arms and looked him over, trying to guess the meaning of this conversation. “Yep! Just. Great,” Bow squeaked.

“Oh!” She abruptly popped out of the access panel. “Hordak? Did you transfer your notes? You know, on the dissected clones?”

Bow went stiff and straight. “Dissected...?”

“Clones?” The She-Ra asked, standing.

Seeing their expressions, he huffed. “They were failed experiments. Incompatible with life outside their vitrine. Technically, they never attained consciousness.” As far as he knew, at least. Their brainwaves had never been especially complex. “And yes, I transferred the data to you.”

“Thanks! Oooh! What’s that?” She scurried deeper into the access panel.

That left him alone with the others. He glanced at them, then resumed monitoring the system update. “So...what about you?” Bow asked.

Hordak did not look up from the data pad. “What ‘about me’?”

“Uh. How are you? Doing okay? Settling in?”

“Conquered any villages?” the queen asked.

His ears folded back. “No, but I’m certain I can arrange something if you’re already bored with peace.”

Bow stared at him, then laughed uneasily. “Ha! That’s a joke! Heh. No offense, but uh, I never really thought you’d have a sense of humor.”

“I don’t.” Hordak eyed the archer, then turned back to the control panel. “Darla, patch into Entrapta’s communicator. I am in need of intelligent conversation.”

“Hey! I’m intelligent.” He sounded almost hurt.

Hordak ignored his outburst. “Entrapta? Can you hear me?”

“Oh, yes! So the updates to Darla’s communication systems worked?”

“It would appear so. How do the internals look?”

“Good! Though....”

“What is it?”

“Well, I was thinking. The exterior sensors could use some tweaking....”

Bow made a choking sound. Still ignoring him, Hordak frowned. “What’s the rating on your tether?” She rattled off a number. His frown deepened. “That’s designed for spacewalks and likely won’t stand up to the wind-resistance of atmospheric flight. Wait until we land to work on the exterior.”

“If I—“

“Is it an urgent repair?”

“No,” she admitted, and he crossed his arms, mouth briefly twitching into a small smile.

“There is plenty of tech for you to ‘tweak’ in here, Starlight. Please refrain from venturing outside the cabin unless the matter becomes urgent.”

At the rear of the cabin, he heard Catra ask no one, “‘Starlight?’” He refused to blush in their presence, choosing to ignore them and focus on Entrapta’s response.

“Okay,” she said on a sigh, though he could hear the smile in her voice. “But you owe me!”

He chuckled. “I’m certain you will have something dangerous and impractical for us to do when I return from Salineas, though I insist we at least take proper safety precautions beforehand.”

“You’re no fun—oh.”

His smile disappeared abruptly. “Entrapta? What is it?” She didn’t respond. “Entrapta? Can you hear me?”

“Yeah! I’m still here! I think we might have a stowaway. I couldn’t catch him, though.”

“A stow—“ Then he huffed. He knew exactly two people that were comfortable using the vents and service corridors as a means to navigate. “Hmmph. He’ll grow bored now that he’s been discovered, so long as you don’t chase him.”

“Be prepared—it looks like he’s headed your way.” She giggled, and he sighed. From the rear of the cabin, Adora walked toward him.

“That’s to be expected. Are we ready to begin the next stage of the update?”

“Yep! Ready when you are!”

“Initiating installation. Prepare for radio silence in three. Two. One.”

The subtle buzz that heralded an open connection cut out. Only then did he direct his attention to the Etherians at his elbows. “A stowaway?” Adora asked, hand on her vambrace.

“Nothing to be concerned with.”

“No offense, but that’s not exactly reassuring,” Bow said.

His ears twitched when he heard clicking from the vents above. “It’s just—“

Imp dropped out of the vent with a screech, wings fluttering. The Etherians—aside from Catra—screamed. “What is that thing!?” Bow asked, reaching for his quiver. Thankfully, Adora seemed too startled to become She-Ra.

Imp, obviously delighted by the chaos, landed on Hordak’s shoulders and spread his wings wide, preening. Hordak just shook his head, looking at the little clone-hybrid. “You were to remain in Dryl with Kadroh.” Despite his words, he reached up to scratch the nape of Imp’s neck. Impervious to chastisement, Imp just chittered happily and settled more comfortably on his shoulders.

Adora blinked. “Wait—is that Imp?”

Seeing her, Imp chirped happily and jumped to her shoulder. “[Hey, Adora],” he said, in Catra’s voice.

She giggled. “Aw, hi, little guy! I‘ve been worried about you.”

Catra stepped forward. “Tch. Of course you’d make friends with Hordak’s spy—“

“[CATRA!]” he screamed in Shadow Weaver’s voice, causing her to shudder.

Curious, Bow approached, one hand lifted as if to pet him. “He’s kind of cute. Is he friendly?”

“Not even slightly,” Hordak said, at the same time Catra replied, “Fuck no.” They shared a look, both their ears folded back, then Catra huffed and turned away.

As if to contradict them, Adora happily scratched the top of his head, earning a happy chirr. Hordak sighed. “Though he can be bribed with food, if you haven’t given him any prior reason to distrust you.” He said the latter with a look at Catra.

Adora smiled. “I used to give him apple slices from my commissary allowance.”

“[apple]” he echoed, adding a questioning chirp at the end.

“Sorry, little guy. I don’t have anything for you right now.”

“[Useless!]” he said, using Hordak’s voice, before jumping back to Hordak.

“Well. That seems a little harsh,” she said, only for Imp to, again, declare her ‘[Useless!]’ as he dug his claws into Hordak’s shoulders.

Shaking his head, Hordak returned his attention to the data pad, punching in a few codes when prompted.

“So...what is he, anyway?” the young queen asked, joining Bow and Adora at the control panel.

His ears folded back as he regarded them, wondering why they were so intent on talking to him. He wished he could open a com-line to Entrapta; he could already feel himself growing irritated at their questions, their interest, and he wished for some kind of buffer. “His genetic makeup is not your concern.” An alert popped up on the pad, flashing bright red. He was almost grateful for it. “I have to go to the engine room and attend to this. Remain here.” He shooed Imp from his shoulder, earning an angry screech as he left to check the engines.

He growled softly when Catra fell into step behind him, though neither of them spoke as they walked to the engine room. Determined to ignore her, he began checking the affected systems. “Do you, uh...need any help?” she asked, lingering awkwardly in the doorway.

He studied her. Her arms were crossed and she wasn’t looking at him, instead fixing her gaze on the ground in front of her. His ears folded back, and he looked away with a huff.

There was much between them, though neither of them were the type to discuss such things. The past was past. Entrapta held no grudge against her, so it seemed he didn’t have much reason to cling to his anger, tempting though it was some days. Were he in a better mood, he probably wouldn’t have minded her presence. As it was, her company was unwanted and only wore at his already fraying patience. “No, Catra. I do not require help. Nor do I need to be guarded,” he snapped, bitterness slipping into his voice.

“Hey, I’m not—“ She groaned and ran a hand through her hair. “It’s not like that.”

The flashing on his data pad was growing more urgent. He turned away from her, tucking the pad away to make the necessary adjustments. She continued to watch him, fidgeting in the doorway. He knelt to make another adjustment, and she asked, “So, how have you been, anyway?”

He paused to eye her, then returned to his work. “Why is that a concern of yours?”

“Did you forget I was on Prime’s ship too?”

His fingers fumbled the hexdriver, but he caught it and glared at her. “I fail to see the relevance.”

She glared back. “Oh, yeah. My bad for being worried you might be, I don’t know, traumatized or something. You’re obviously totally fine.” He huffed, ears folded back. He didn’t respond for a while, checking the data pad and making minor adjustments as needed—aware of Catra’s gaze on him the entire time. She sighed. “Look, I...get it. Okay? We’ve both been through the...the slime torture—“

He choked. “Slime. Torture.”

“Well, what do you call it?” she demanded.

“The purification ritual.”

“Of course that’s what you’d call it. I don’t know what else I expected.” She rolled her eyes. “Can you just—be normal for a few minutes? I’m trying to be nice here.”

“That must be difficult for you.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not exactly making it easier.” She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “What I’m trying to say is, if you ever need someone to talk to. I’m available. I guess.”

His ear twitched. He hadn’t expected that. “Why would I want to talk about that?”

She looked away. “It helps.”

He huffed, checking the data pad. The flashing red icon was gone and everything else seemed in order. “We’re done here,” he said.

“Hey, I’m just trying to help—“

He held up the pad. “With the update. There are no further adjustments to make.”

“Oh.” She shoved her hands into her pockets. They walked back to the cabin in silence.

Just before they reached the door, he paused. “Your concern is...noted.”

She muttered something under her breath, but she fell silent as soon as the door slid open. Imp had—somehow—stolen the archer’s quiver and was currently clinging to some pipes on the ceiling, throwing arrows at the three while they tried to knock him down. Adora had changed into She-Ra, trying to use her height to reach him, and the floor was littered in the remains of spent arrows, as well as a net, several puddles of water, a rope, and a few scorch marks. “What is going on in here?” he yelled, marching in. The She-Ra automatically snapped to attention before remembering herself.

“Uh,” she said.

“Well,” Bow said.

“It’s his fault,” the Queen said, looking decidedly unqueenlike when soaked in water.

He speared Imp with a look, but he meekly flew to Hordak’s shoulders, chirping pathetically. He held his wing as if it was hurt, whining softly. Hordak sighed, taking the quiver of arrows when it was offered. He returned them to Bow. “This is why you will not be accompanying me to Salineas,” he told Imp. “Let me see your wing.” Imp whined, pulling it out of reach. Likely because he was faking for sympathy. “Imp.”

Entrapta dropped down from the vent, her mask down. “Oh, what’d I miss?! It looks like you guys had fun!” Seeing Imp, she pushed her mask up and held out her arms. “Aw, were they playing too rough?“

Realizing he could get more sympathy from Entrapta, Imp blew a raspberry at Hordak before flying into her arms, cuddling close and chirping pathetically. “Poor little guy. Let’s get you fixed up!”

Hordak gave Imp a disgusted look, but didn’t object when Entrapta made a show of checking Imp’s wing—indeed, perfectly fine—finishing her exam by kissing her fingertips and bringing them to his wingtip for a kiss by-proxy. “There!” she declared, “All better!”

Catra smirked and leaned close. “Did she pull that move on you after the last battle?”

His ears flexed, and his cheeks grew hot. He crossed his arms and glared at her, though that didn’t wipe the smirk from her face. Thankfully, her voice was pitched too low to carry.

He exhaled slowly, walking away from her without another word. “You shouldn’t encourage him,” he said as he came to stand beside Entrapta. “He’s not actually a child, though I admit his neoteny is a curiosity.” A fortuitous one, as it had likely saved his life on multiple occasions. Hordak’s soldiers had not always been the most savory of characters, but most were reluctant to harm a child. (And those that weren’t had a tendency to...disappear. A curiosity he’d declined to examine more closely.)

“Ooh—you don’t know why Imp is Imp?”

“I do not. He is...unique.” The only living result borne of his efforts to create a clone by patching his own faulty genome with bits and pieces of compatible Etherian animals. Both a success and a failure, all at once. “I considered running further tests, but....” He reached out to scratch Imp’s head. “I decided that could wait until he reached the natural end of his lifespan.”

“[Sentiment!]” Imp growled in Hordak’s own voice, sounding suitably disgusted.

“Yes, you little cretin. I hope you’re pleased with yourself.” Imp gave a happy chirr. “Now go fetch some towels. You are going to help clean this up.”

“[Cretin!]”

“Do not argue with me. If you can’t behave yourself, then I cannot send you to stay with....” He sighed, pained by his next words. “‘Aunt Lonnie’ and your ‘Uncles’. Am I clear?”

Imp responded to this with a hiss, but he did dart away. Whether or not he would actually return with the towels was yet to be determined. Hordak and Entrapta started to exchange notes, but he quickly became aware that the others were staring at him with wide eyes. Again. He glared at them. “I agreed to many things when I signed our treaty. I did not agree to be stared at like an animal in a menagerie. So I will ask this once; what. do. you. want?” He enunciated each word sharply, still glaring.

Bow and the Queen blushed and looked away, but the She-Ra just kept smiling at him. This only caused his scowl to deepen, until Catra spoke up from the rear of the cabin. “Just wondering how Shadow Weaver managed to be worse at parenting than the Horde Lord himself.”

He sputtered, so thrown by that statement he wasn’t even sure how to reply. “Imp is not a child! He’s—“ He growled. “Are we done?” he asked Entrapta.

“I think so.”

“Good. Find me before we land. I’ve had enough of this,” he said, stalking out of the room—and making a special point to hiss at Catra as he left.

She had the gall to wave at him.

A/N: “Neoteny”, by the way, is just a term for the prepubescent traits an animal retains after reaching adulthood. Many domesticated animals display neoteny—cats’ playfulness and their vocalizations, for example. In this case, I’m using it to refer to Imp’s general child-like appearance. (It’s also the most scientific way possible to say something is adorable.)

#Hordak #Entrapta #Entrapdak #Catra #Bow #spop fanfic #intimacy log #Imp

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corinthbayrpg · 5 years ago

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NAME. Ana Cavallero AGE & BIRTH DATE. 564 & August 9th, 1456 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Female & She / Her SPECIES. Vampire OCCUPATION. Lounge Singer at Hypnos FACE CLAIM. Nathalie Kelley

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: death, murder ) The dawn of the Inca Empire might still be considered one of the greatest historical feats of all time, let alone the early fifteenth century. Rising in the Peruvian highlands as if eternally destined for greatness, Machu Picchu had already been successfully constructed by the time a young woman bore her first child in 1456. Within what would eventually become Lima, Peru, Nayra came into existence. No surname, they simply hadn’t been concocted yet, but she was rightfully gathered by her Ayllu as a member of the larger community as a whole. They say that it takes a village to raise a child and the Incan people most certainly adhered to that sentiment.

By the time she reached her tenth year, Nayra garnered favor with the elite due to her beauty and was selected for removal from her family to become an Aclla Cuna, or Virgin of the Sun. An honor above all else, chosen as a servant to the sun god and tribute of the state. They locked her away in a temple to train and instruct, to mold their perfect chosen woman, and in that time she did not witness daylight for nearly six years as she and the other girls were placed under impossible scrutiny. Yet it was a blessing and she did not sour in these conditions, more than prepared to accept her role however the prominent leaders deemed fit: as wife to a nobleman, priestess of the empire, or a worthy human sacrifice to the gods. Perhaps all three.

Upon becoming ordained as a priestess, the state opted to marry her off into a dynastic union with a young nobleman who had proven himself exceptionally loyal to the emperor and whose first wife had passed in the year prior due to sudden illness. Despite their arranged union, Nayra and her husband were wedded rather blissfully for many years. They bore no children, which might have been grounds for their marriage to dissolve, however the pair grew quite fond of one another’s company and did not mind their misfortune. Her husband would not risk the loss of another wife and Nayra discovered that her additional time made way for further ventures into weaving and religious rituals.

Yet even the most peaceful of arrangements could not last for eternity and a disagreement between her husband and an advisor to the emperor led to the swirling of untruths, rumors spread by the offended party as he instilled a detriment to her partner’s reputation. The crimes leveled before him included an assortment of minor infractions, with the most prominent being crimes against the empire itself and even Nayra: laziness, adultery, and massive theft. The punishment for the one accused of such claims? Public execution through the lost art of cliff-tossing. Their society held a no tolerance policy for any transgressions, which set forth low criminal activity and one unjustly murdered man.

The resulting position as a widow devastated Nayra, who faithfully believed that she and her husband shared such a deeply honest connection and it now became irreparably severed. No one would assist the former wife of a supposed lawless criminal, and the state refused to sanction a second marriage due to her barren womb, leaving the priestess alone and withdrawn. Inevitably, the grief manifested into an unspeakable rage and she desired nothing more than revenge for her loss and humiliation, but was uncertain how to gain it without succumbing to the same circumstances. She prayed to her sun god for guidance, but pleas fell upon emptiness and her faith wilted alongside them. The following year she met with an ostracized healer in the capital, desperate for some variation of respite from her own fury and dreams of vengeance. Half anticipating that the other would report her animosity to those in command, she discovered herself curiously surprised when the medicine woman instructed that she wait beyond the city’s edge for the one who came at night. The enemy of the sun god, the man who only walked in darkness.

She saw him arrive after the last light fell beneath the trees–– only one, but he seemingly stalked the grounds of the capital in search of those who were wandering alone. From first glance she knew him to be wicked and predatory, yet Nayra approached without reluctance. Amused at her bravery and intrigued by the offering of her knowledge regarding what lay untouched in the temples, the unholy one who called himself Hektor agreed to a widow’s request. Taking her to unconsecrated ground, she became a vrykolakas that very night and upon waking from her untimely death, knew that the transformation could only be completed once her loosest end became tied. Nayra returned to the mystical healer and fed upon her blood, stealing one mortal life for an eternity of her own depravity… The guards and statesman who destroyed her life never anticipated the nightmare she unleashed upon them under the following moons.

From that moment onward, well over 50 years passed in a blur during which she spent most of her nights stalking the villages along the coast of Peru and stealing away unsuspecting stragglers before continuing on to the next. Devastation and bloodshed were left in her wake, chalked up to demonic entities or even animal attacks by the locals; humanity never truly changes, does it? Eventually she began to migrate north through what would become the lower half of Central America before finally arriving in Acapulco, Mexico. A trade route had been established here, enormous vessels docked from far off lands and it was one evening as she lay in wait for the emerging merchants and sailors to de-board that she saw him. Ramil.

Fully intending to steal him away and satiate a bloodlust which never quieted, instead Nayra spared the life of this strange man whose skin ran too hot and whose smile echoed with a kindness unfamiliar to her cruelty. Over time, their bond grew quite extensive and once both were fully exhausted by the shaded nature of their union under the cover of darkness and pretense, they opted to migrate north in search of a solution.

For a century, the duo meandered their way along the various villages and settlements until they reached what would inevitably become the southeast United States, but was only known in this time as New Spain. There they assisted in changing each other’s titles to something with a modern twist. Not because they found their given names to be shameful, but the pair knew this cover would assist in their deception amongst the scattered Spanish outposts. Thus they became Lucas and Ana Cavallero, donning a mutual last name despite their lack of conventional marriage. A ring was placed upon her left hand by someone who revealed himself as not quite human, but not quite something else either. Certainly as immortal as Ana, yet Lucas refused to divulge his species. She did not inquire any further, too blissfully happy to shatter their shared illusion.

A small coven of mystics gathered near to their village, those later known as witches, with whom her love bartered for a transformation of her ring. To walk in the sunlight once more had long since become a fantasy of Ana’s, yet these powerful beings made it into a reality. With the ability to exist in normalcy granted, she foolishly believed that they might stay in this life forever and ride out the impending centuries in their new world. Unfortunately, eternity preferred to remain elusive. The pair only enjoyed a bit over a century together in total when her kind, mysterious husband was destroyed as retribution for one of the countless misdeeds accumulated from Ana’s past.

At her lover’s final request, she fled the scene without a gruesome fight, choking upon the knowledge that he so willingly sacrificed himself for her unworthy life. Practically widowed again and sent spiraling into oblivion over the agony of witnessing slaughtered love for a second time, Ana never fully recovered without the closure of vindication. Her harrowing escape that evening landed the vampire along the gold coast of California where she remained for several centuries before migrating to Europe in the latter half of the 1900s. Every positive facet of her personhood lost to boundless time and apathy, she spent far too many decades wrapped in violence whilst compelling others out of money and resources to supply her own selfish desires. Now a resident of Corinth Bay for two years, Ana has built a comfortable life for herself and holds little intention of ceasing her malevolent ways.

PERSONALITY

+ versatile, charismatic, vigilant - chaotic, scheming, duplicitous

PLAYED BY MARTY. PST. She/Her.

#marty

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sea-and-storm · 6 years ago

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KJRN, THE CRAFTY CORSAIR

* Here’s the redone version of Kjrn! Ignore the other profile going around!

[ BASIC INFORMATION ]

[FULL NAME] Kjrn Fythe.

[PRONOUNCED] Kee-ehrn Faiythe (rhymes with lithe).

[ALIASES] None at present. At least, none to which she’ll answer.

[GENDER] Female.

[AGE] Somewhere in her 80s-90s, but appears approx. early to mid-thirties.

[NAMEDAY] 21st Sun of the Fourth Umbral Moon (8/21).

[RACE] Rava Viera

[RELIGION] Non-practicing.

[LANGUAGES] Common, Dalmascan.

[ACCENT] Icelandic, by real world standards.

[HANDEDNESS] Ambidextrous.

[ APPEARANCE ]

[HAIR] A mid-back length mess of loose brunette waves, generally pulled forward to drape over one shoulder. Soft and silky smooth, its care obviously involved much love and attention – and vanity.Touch at your own risk.

[EARS] Short-furred, not overly long, and standing straight upright, with the same brown of her hair giving way into some white dappling towards their tips.

[EYES] Pale, rosy pink.

[COMPLEXION] Medium tan with coppery undertones.

[HEIGHT] 6′2″ (before ears) - 7′0″ (with ears)

[BUILD] She’s neither muscle-rippling powerhouse nor dramatically curved bombshell, but equal enough between both to boast both a bit of shapeliness as well as being sturdier than one might expect.

[POSTURE] Upright, cool, and cocksure are all good ways to put it.

[SCARS] If she has any scars, she goes to great lengths to conceal them and she’s certainly not going to tell you about them.

[MARKINGS] A set of three white markings almost always don her face, set in patterns of lines and dots. It’s an odd, almost tribal touch to a woman who for all else seems to rebuke her more traditional origins. She doesn’t seem wont to speak of their meaning.

[MANNER OF DRESS] Kjrn is quite fond of nice clothing that shows off her wealth, and she has somewhat of a weakness for jewelry and gems. It’ll be a cold day in the seventh hell before you catch her willingly garbed in something drab or of low quality make.

[ COMBAT SKILL ]

[COMBAT CLASS] Gunslinger.

[MELEE PROFICIENCY] None | Low | Intermediate | High | Masterful

[RANGED PROFICIENCY] None | Low | Intermediate | High | Masterful

[MAGICAL PROFICIENCY] None | Low | Intermediate | High | Masterful

[HEALING PROFICIENCY] None | Low | Intermediate | High | Masterful

[ATTRIBUTES] - - - STRENGTH: 11 (+0) - - - DEXTERITY: 15 (+2) - - - CONSTITUTION: 11 (+0) - - - INTELLIGENCE: 15 (+2) - - - WISDOM: 13 (+1) - - - CHARISMA: 14 (+2)

[WEAPONRY] A 6-shot pepperbox revolver (mid range), single shot rifle (long range), and a thin-bladed estoc (close range) as a final line of defense.

[ARMOR] Usually not terribly much. She prefers not to be weighed down, so if she’s going to wear armor, it’s usually in the form of leathers.

[COMBAT STRENGTHS] Excellent aim. Fights well at mid- to long distances. Quick on her feet, both physically and mentally. Resourceful.

[COMBAT WEAKNESSES] Struggles in close quarters or when in need of a reload. Not the strongest or most durable, physically. Particularly sensitive to magical effects cast upon her; too much aetheric exposure, even of the positive variety, may trigger a brief berserk state until the excess aether is expended and exhaustion takes over.

[ EARLY YEARS ]

[HOMELAND] Good luck finding out, because she’s not telling.

[PARENTS] Mjra Fythe (mother) - Father Unknown.

[SIBLINGS] Aela Fythe (younger sister)

[CLAN ROLE] Huntress, tracker.

[CLAN STATUS] Exiled.

[REASON(S) FOR LEAVING] Kjrn left her homeland not once but twice, and that’s about as much detail as she will willingly impart on anyone without at least a fair few rounds being bought for her first.

[ LATER YEARS ]

[PAST RESIDENCE] Dalmasca.

[PAST OCCUPATION] Magitek salvager.

[PAST AFFILIATION] Dalmascan Resistance.

[PAST FINANCIAL STATUS] Moderate, comfortable.

[PAST SOCIAL STATUS] Respected.

[PAST RELATIONSHIPS] Pria Atoel, wife - deceased.

[PAST FRIENDSHIPS] A number of friends and allies from the Resistance, as well as other Dalmascan citizens. (Open to background connections!)

[REASON(S) FOR LEAVING] Left Dalmasca and set herself to wandering aimlessly once her wife, Pria, had passed.

[ PRESENT DAY ]

[RESIDENCE] The open skies aboard her own small airship, the Fortuneseeker.

[OCCUPATION] Some would define her lack of qualms about taking anything that isn’t nailed down (and some thing that are, with enough effort) as piracy or flat-out thievery. Kjrn prefers to call herself a simple treasure hunter and merchant of myriad miscellanea.

[AFFILIATIONS] None actively, but still sympathetic to the Dalmascan Resistance and occasionally will send a bit of extra coin or goods their way through old contacts.

[FINANCIAL STATUS] Well-off, or that’s what she’d like you to believe. Even when the money isn’t so good, she certainly won’t let on as if she’s broke.

[SOCIAL STATUS] Hasn’t really stuck around in one place long enough in recent history to establish any roots, but there’s a few places that she may or may not be wanted by local authorities.

[RELATIONSHIP STATUS] Widowed, shows little interest in courting anyone.

[PRESENT FRIENDSHIPS] Keeps in touch with a few people from her Resistance days, but not many that she could call a close friend. (Open to connections!)

[VICES] You can readily find Kjrn drinking, smoking, and even occasionally indulging in some drug use. But her worst vice of all is gambling. She can hardly turn down a good game of chance, especially when there’s betting involved.

[ ROMANCE & SEX ]

[GENDER IDENTITY] Cisgender Female.

[ROMANTIC ORIENTATION] Demi-homoromantic.

[EMOTIONAL ROLE] Submissive | Dominant | Switch | Unsure

[RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES] Her biggest tendency is to just not get herself into a relationship, period. Relationships are like anchors that weigh her down from the skies she’s come to love most of all.

[LOVE LANGUAGE] Kjrn isn’t much of a verbal lover. She’ll drop an ‘I love you’ every now and then, but her love speaks through things like lavish gifts and pampering.

[SEXUAL ORIENTATION] Homosexual.

[SEXUAL ROLE] Submissive | Dominant | Switch | Unsure

[LIBIDO] Average. She’s not bereft of want, nor is ruled by base physical needs.

[ATTRACTED TO] Confidence. Wittiness. Ability to hold a good conversation. Thrillseekers. Fellow lovers of the skies. Physical attractiveness. Money.

[TURN OFFS] Shyness. Indecisiveness. Clinginess. Jealousy. Lack of intelligence. Anyone afraid of heights.

[ PERSONALITY TRAITS ]

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between / Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

[ HOOKS ]

TREASURE HUNTER Kjrn presently makes her living by delving into ruins, tombs, and other such places most folk have no business wandering into in search of anything she might turn a profit on. Want some company on a good ol’ dungeon delving? Or your character responds to a posting she’s made seeking assistance?

SKY PIRATE Annnd sometimes when the more legally palatable treasure hunting jobs are lacking, Kjrn may or may not turn to a bit of piracy to fill the gaps. She’s targeted everything from small Garlean crafts to merchant vessels, usually trying to avoid violence where she can. Maybe your character was on one of these vessels, or has come to seek one of the bounties placed upon her for said crimes? Or maybe – just maybe – your character is interested in signing on with her?

CAPTAIN OF THE FORTUNESEEKER As mentioned before, Kjrn owns her own small airship by the name of the Fortuneseeker. She claims the title of captain upon her, with a crew of about ten (NPCs) underneath her. Maybe you’re looking to sign onto the crew? Or maybe you just have a more temporary need for someone with an airship to ferry yourself or any goods – legal or otherwise – from one place to the next? The sky’s the limit!

MERCHANT OF MYRIAD MISCELLANEA Naturally, after a victorious venture in dungeoneering or plundering, Kjrn will usually come out of it with a number of items in need of off-loading. She has a particular eye for anything shiny and beautiful like gems and jewelry, but she’s also been known to come back with anything from weapons to magical items to sell to whomsoever is inclined to pay good coin. Come buy something shiny from her!

DALMASCAN RESISTANCE AFFILIATE Kjrn and her wife, Pria, were once fairly respected members of the Resistance, salvaging Garlean magitek to refit and use against them when all was said and done. However, after the former’s passing, Kjrn stepped down from her active position in the Resistance to take on a more auxiliary role by helping support it financially. She still maintains connections to the Resistance to this day, and some still haven’t given up the hope that she might eventually return to the fight.

GAMBLING ADDICT Kjrn’s vice of choice would be a good drink, some good company, and a good game of cards. Or dice. Or anything, really, so long as there are stakes involved. It’s a pretty general and basic hook, but hey! It works!

GOT OTHER IDEAS? Maybe you’ve read through this profile and something other idea than these hooks has sparked your muse? If so, let me know! This isn’t an exhaustive list of hooks, so I’d be excited to hear your ideas!

[ OOC ]

[CALL ME] Jali, Ghoa, Kjrn.. Anything but weird overly familiar petnames! (She/her)

[I AM…] A 27-year-old woman who works a full time job and plays multiple tabletop games as well as playing FFXIV, so my schedule can be kinda all over the place. I also love cats and really bad puns and writing drabbles that make people’s hearts hurt.

[AVAILABILITY] Most weekday evenings from 5PM - 10PM Central. Weekends, pretty much whenever. Not available most Wednesdays, and some Thursdays/Saturdays due to various D&D games! Also please note that Kjrn is an alt character. Meaning I won’t be available for RP on her 24/7! Please be sure you’re okay with this before reaching out!

[IN GAME NAME] Crafty Corsair.

[SERVER] Balmung (Crystal), but willing to world-visit for RP!

[PREFERRED RP METHODS] Discord has quickly become my #1 RP platform because I can post even when I’m busy with something else or when I’m having a slow day at work. I can also do in-game RP, usually so long as we work out a day/time in advance! Sometimes I can do impromptu RP requests, but not often!

[HARD NO’S]

RP of any sort with real-life minors. Sorry, I just don’t feel comfortable writing with anyone under eighteen!

Characters that are minors ICly are tentatively fine, but I will absolutely not RP any romantic, sexual, mature, dark, or otherwise questionable themes with such a character; and likewise, I will not RP with anyone whose minor character engages in this sort of RP with others, either.

Fetishistic characters, i.e. “f*ta”, “tr*p”, etc. Actual transgender, agender, genderfluid, etc. characters are 100% fine, but if your character is written not as a fleshed out person but as thinly veiled ERP-bait, I’m not interested.

OOC Romance or possessiveness or clinginess. Just… don’t. I don’t want to date you. I don’t want to sext with you. I don’t want to be up your butt 24/7, and I sure as hell don’t want you up mine. RP partners with reasonable personal space boundaries only need apply, please!

ERP-heavy/only connections. I’m not opposed to sexual RP coming up, but I ask that it not be the goal of every single or even a good deal of the RP we do. To be entirely honest, I much prefer fade-to-black as opposed to writing out such scenes, anyway. Please respect this! Pressuring for ERP is immediate grounds for ceasing all RP and potentially all contact entirely.

#ffxiv #ffxiv rp #balmung rp #crystal rp #kjrn fythe #cunning corsair #lfrp #here's the redone kjrn!#i'm much happier and excited about this one!#even if she isn't a Super Original OC Concept #but WHO CARES AMIRITE

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donnnoir · 6 years ago

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I am back, well for the most part. This process being contingent upon my time management and allotment of same. Believe me it is not from lack of desire, rather it is dealing with the typical Luciferian practice of distraction and delay; added to that is their ubiquitous practice of poisoning those they target, along with the microwave and other energy / frequency weapons used on targeted individuals. An if ever there was a target on their BINGO List I am in the top three. I live only by the grace of God. Presently it appears individuals are putting some petroleum based distillate into my drinks and food. I suspect that there are several other types of unhealthy food additives being put into that which I consume. The other items I suspect are some sort of heavy metal salts like Thallium, Arsenic, or similar. The only good thing that can be said about what is presently occurring is that thus far they have not resorted to using metal salts which have been irradiated, like they did when I was being Fox-ed in Southern California around the Long Beach and Wilmington areas primarily. Even so the amounts have been sufficient that if I was anybody else, I would be very concerned and more than highly upset at several persons around me, all the more so given the great lengths they go in saying we are fast friends, family even. An although I know I will survive I am needless to say highly upset. Yet my circumstance is not such that I can easily or directly deal with the matter. Instead as it is part of the larger issues I have dealt with all my Life I prefer to just add it to an ongoing tab. Soon enough the paradigms and social conventions we Live by shall come undone, and my hands will be free. When the Kid gloves come off, and I am given leave from my G-d I will commence to balancing the scales. Until then I must suffer the indignation and deprivations to my soul. This exposition project will continue as time and situation permits.

Thus in consideration to this process I have undertaken it is abundantly clear that I should present myself and a general perspective of the terms I have strove to have all my Life. All the more so since in pursuit of the purpose of this blog and my venturing out into the media of sorts will invariably bring the entirety of my life under the scrutiny of those that will for one reason or another seek to discredit what I intend to present. An I being the disreputable soul that I am will be an easy target. Wherefore it is incumbent upon me to get out ahead of the ball on this, so to speak. I know that no matter how I attempt to be forthcoming on matters of my personal life and the manner in which I have Lived. I will invariably miss many details that in due course will bite me in the arse. I am fond of reminding persons that Life is in the Living; and that last I checked Living was and is a very messy process. Or, rather it can be. An all things considered I have done a bang up job of leaving a mound of detritus in my wake. A side effect that has only increased as of late, albeit with a helping hand from those that would rule over the world. At the time of my composing this my Life has become defined as a series of ongoing train-wrecks. What chance I had to have any kind of Life resembling normality is no longer serviced by the train station. Regrettable as it may be I am at least comfortable with that reality. Wherefore how best to succinctly present a proper representation of the Life I have lead which represents a degree of my thought processes and a degree of my character and nature. A usually straight forward idea, yet for myself I find it immensely difficult. Yes I am a son of Light, I have always professed the Truth. Nonetheless I was raised to be a Man, a hard Man of character meant for vastly more difficult and dynamic social and cultural circumstances than has thus far been required of me or us in general as the human race. Yes we have Lived through challenging times even survived an insane period of global ego paranoia we commonly referred to as MAD. The legacy of which will yet play out in the not too distant future. What we as in the entire World must struggle and fight Our way through beginning shortly within the coming months, to frame it in proper temporal perspective. These events will exceed all that has happened in the past. The Seers of Old were shown many of these things, they however lacked the conceptual context or even words whereby to begin to explain what had been revealed to them. My mother worked hard to raise four Men, as she understood that to mean. We all were each individual anachronisms for the present. We belong to times five hundred to five thousand years ago. Understanding this, perhaps the rest will find context and help those that wish to maintain perspective. Elsewise my existence and life’s work will seem almost contradictory to my stated purpose and desires. Hell I will be the first to admit I am a living ball of contradictions; nonetheless I have maintained a course that has been exemplified as of late. A portion of the story we shall attend to a bit later; sooner than it would in chronological order.

Thus Be it Known I was born August 31, 1960, in the year of Our Lord. In the humble back water town of Socorro, New Mexico. And yes, New Mexico is a State in the Union of the United States of America. My Christian given name is as my fathers, thus making me a junior. My father is your typical WASP American. Gifted with a Highly keen intellect and analytical mind. My Mother’s people are a unique blend of Native American and Spanish. Our Spanish roots go back five hundred years. Two brothers were shipped to further point in the Spanish Empire to protect their bloodline till the end of time. They came in chains as Crypto Jews fleeing the Spanish Inquisition. My father later was one of the engineers working on the Mercury and Saturn / Apollo Rockets which eventually landed men on the moon. My parents being the strongwilled dynamic individuals that they were eventually divorced, with my Mother taking us from California back to New Mexico. I was blessed to have lived in New Mexico when it was an open confluence of differing forces and ideologies. It is sadly no longer such a place. I grew up in the company of different beliefs and fellow students who came from backgrounds that valued intelligence and knowledge. At the same time others taught me that a person needed to see beyond the bonds of knowledge and see the foundations of the world and universe as they were originally cast that being spiritual and some would say ethereal. Thus to me understanding Our World from more than one perspective or level of sight is normal. As a matter of fact this perception of reality goes all the way back to my earliest memories back to being in my crib. An when it comes to sighted, I in previous conversations with others have described how my vision worked when I was younger. As many of us may recall from our halcion days of being in elementary school. There were those overhead projectors which our teachers would then apply various overlays. Well that is a very good analogy of how I actually would see my world. There was/ is the reality that everyone sees, then there were generally two additional overlays, usually one in front of and one behind the norm. But this could also be two behind or two in front of the norm. On rare occasions there would be more than two in a variety of configurations. At times the overlays would have no obvious association to the normal view. Matter of fact I have had here recently cause to remember images I saw almost fifty years ago. Some things that go back to before I was two. Now I have always thought I was a bit different, and naively I to this day can’t fathom that everyone doesn’t in some way or another see the world similar to how I have. Being a precocious young man to say the least, I do recall the statement that if you would be great that you should select a great adversary. An as Lucifer is Humanities great adversary it was natural that I would select him. Now it was also an extension of my visions from when I was nine. So as I listened to the conflicts of the day, did I become aware that there among the idyllic images of society that I heard Lucifer’s voice spreading his lies and vile beliefs. Since no one else was pointing a finger or raising an alarm in that sector I figured I might as well go poking around. That when I was approximately sixteen, needless to say it has been one hell of ride. Now, bit by bit I have slipped into the abyss which is present in all part of our society and culture. Because, well that is where I was needed the most. However it takes a toll and like some foul ichor adheres to those who travel extensively in it, such that for fear it may infect anyone not disposed to it I avoid deceit folk. I have made my way doing business and working often in the byways of this abyss. As a female friend of mine once cried to me that I couldn’t let myself be killed because in all the world I was the only person who did what I did. That I would actually willingly go into to the places that these Luciferians inhabit to take the women and child out. Others might help, but none of them would go into the place alone and face them down. To this I must admit is the Truth. An for anyone else to do it would be a fool errand. Because as they stare at me with fake smiles wanting only to kill me; I would stare back and challenge them to bring it. They wouldn’t because what they see when they look at me is a blackness darker than any they have seen before. Now along the way I have become a felon more than on one occasion. My record shows several convictions, some I am not guilty of what I am convicted of having done. As is often the case the Truth is the first victim of a good fight. And believe me I have been fighting the good fight for a long time, up until recently I have generally gotten a big return on my investment. Recently I have been handed my ass to me in spades, with nothing to thus far show for what it has cost. Believe me it has come at an immense cost, with no end in sight. Yet it is the ticket I bought on my way to Creation; so Hell be Damned if I am going to start whining now. I do at time bitch a little, but I am only human after all. Hahahaha……..

So, having accepted responsibility for having lived the woolly life that I have. To say I have a checker board past is to be kind but nonetheless True. Consequently what I share with you is the Truth. I wish I could say it was assembled in a coherent manner so as to be easily understood. Sorry such is not the case. More Over I will no doubt go off into various tangent issues and share what at times is my unique history and understanding of a given issue. Somethings may offend some of the more “sensible” readers. I can accept that. Know that I once thought as almost everyone else in the world. It is only because of my life’s experiences and knowledge acquired by other means that I now believe as I do. What is particularly ironic is that no matter how large my “craziness coefficient” may get; I am withholding the more extreme things I have come to know. Hang on as best you can an hopefully my writings will permit some of you to prepare for that which shall shortly come to pass. Granted my current biggest obstacles are getting past the AI’s that are acting as guardians at the gates. We shall do our best.

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rocrown · 7 years ago

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JERSEY GIRL as Kevin Smith’s Masterpiece

by Robert Crown

A reexamination the film Jersey Girl by Kevin Smith and reappraisal of its qualities through a post-postmodernist lens, rejecting the characteristics of postmodernism as definitive measures of successful storytelling and the cynicism of the early post-9/11 culture, and exploring its merit today.

Jersey Girl is not the creative failure that critics and some viewers deemed it. When you look at the culture and the films of 2004, there’s a particularly strong utilization of postmodern theory and tropes like self-referential humour, metafiction, fragmentation, paranoia, pastiche, ironic emotional detachment, cynical irony, a pervasive sense of cynicism and a certain Sartrean bad faith. You can link this to 9/11, the rise of terror, Afghanistan, Iraq on the periphery of invasion, Homeland Security, the imminent re-election of Bush, a general state of fear, as well as what David Foster Wallace referred to as the Mainstreaming of Postmodernism, where media became oversaturated with the postmodernist theory, partially, I’d venture, due to the ability to distance an audience from emotion or make light of the emotional burden, which both the creators and audiences wanted post-9/11 and the emotional weightiness of the culture surrounding it. In addition to these factors, the media circus surrounding Bennifer—the tabloid obsession with Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez’s relationship—and failure of the film Gigli starring the couple, and finally, Kevin Smith’s practice of writing/directing hard R-rated, profanity and vulgarity filled films all contributed to the negative response towards the PG-13-rated Jersey Girl.

Whereas, Jersey Girl rejects almost all postmodernist tropes (besides intertextuality, which is less significant than the others). It doesn’t satirize or poke fun at the tropes of its ostensible genre, and it’s in no way self-referential or metafictional. Instead, it subverts the romantic comedy tropes, and by extension, it subverts expectations. If it were a traditional rom-com, Act 1 would be the lives of Affleck’s Ollie Trinké and Lopez’s Gertie Steiney separate to establish their lives and characters, and their Meet-Cute would be the start of Act 2. However, the way in which Kevin Smith starts the movie with them together, establishing their romance and emotional connection and has Gertie die in childbirth, tells the audience this isn’t the relationship that matters to the story. That’s why Act 2 starts after Gertie’s death, leading to Ollie’s first “rejection of the call” (usually to adventure but in this case, fatherhood) and subsequent outburst about his client The Fresh Prince at a media event, resulting in him losing his job, and crossing the threshold, taking on fatherhood.

It doesn’t use ironic emotional detachment either, rather it lives in these moments, expresses them with sincerity. Look at the scene in which Ben breaks down crying about missing his wife and failing his daughter early on. The film isn’t a glaring pastiche (like Quentin Tarantino’s Kill Bill) nor does it implement fragmentization (like the work of Charlie Kaufman), but rather it’s a convention warmhearted (not cynical or paranoid) narrative willingly adhering to genre tropes in its own way.

Having established the central plot—Ollie’s relationship with his daughter, Gertie, named after his wife and played by Raquel Castro—Smith gives us a romantic subplot halfway through the movie, reducing it to a subplot is another subversion of the traditional rom-com tropes. Since the father-daughter relationship is central, the introduction of Liv Tyler’s Maya isn’t the boy-meets-girl trope but rather a means to stretch Ollie further outside his comfort zone (his self-imposed celibacy). At this point, Ollie acts in Bad Faith by rejecting the possibility that he can have more or be anything else because of his obsession with his past—his love for his wife and his former career.

Maya is a catalyst for change, and we can see in the rising action as he accepts her into his life and accepts his present, until the point where he speaks to the townspeople and get’s that surge which sends him backwards, back to acting in bad faith. These obsessions lead to the boy-loses-girl trope, but in this case it’s more like dad-disappoints-daughter when he chooses the job interview rather than his daughter’s performance of “God, That’s Good!” from Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street.

This leads up to the climax—his literal confrontation with his past mistake, through his interaction with Will Smith, he decides to stop living in bad faith, to stop living in the past, and races home to win back his daughter. In the end, Ollie begins living in good faith, he reconciles with the three main people in his life (Gertie, Maya, and George Carlin’s Bart Trinké, Ollie’s father), and he dances with Maya. During their slow dance, she says to him, “Well, you showing up when you did like that? That was just about the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen.” And it is; throughout we’re shown a platonic romance between father and daughter—their big date in New York being another obvious rom-com moment. He tells her to stick around, invites her to live in good faith as well to accept that there’s more between them, the possibility for a real relationship and not the “casual sex” she suggested earlier, and their story doesn’t end so much as leave off with possibility, no big grand romantic kiss, but rather they hug—again, it’s Kevin Smith saying, this movie isn’t about that relationship or form of love.

Instead, the movie ends with the complete reconciliation of father and daughter, with Ollie stating, “Anything for you… because you’re the only thing I was ever really good at,” an acknowledgement and acceptance of his life, the truth and illustrative of the story’s moral. The lights fade as they stare into each other’s eyes, their friends and family talking and drinking behind them, their lives continuing after the movie ends. Father and daughter are lit by a spotlight on the dance floor—possibly a nod to the theatre references, but certainly singling out the main theme.

Kevin Smith said Jersey Girl was “not for critics.” He’s wrong. It may not have been for the critics at the time of its release, but recent generations of viewers for whom the cynicism of the late-postmodernist era is firmly entrenched in the past can view this film without recoiling from its sincerity, without rolling their eyes at its warmth and heart, and without experiencing anger or defensiveness towards the emotions it elicits.

Moving, subversive, sincere, overcoming bad faith and ubiquitous postmodernist tropes, Jersey Girl delivers an understated story about a man living in the past and his daughter. It’s the work of a writer-director fully in command of his storytelling tools and using them with great expertise to deliver one of the best films (if not the masterpiece) of his oeuvre.

#jersey girl #Kevin smith #movie #film #criticism #writing #robertcrownwriting #critique #review #masterpiece #ben affleck #Jennifer lopez #George carlin #Liv Tyler

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malcolmadrian97 · 5 years ago

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Formation Reiki 06 Wonderful Cool Ideas

Healing physical mental and intuitive abilities.The first law of thermodynamics states that energy carried to the student.On balance, I lean towards the Western world in the power of touch has proved itself to prevent thousands of satisfied users.Critics point out that your course is a somewhat shortened version of Reiki only to Reiki you learn Reiki, it was there all along.

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Children from a genuine desire to include others, and of linear time simply didn't hold up under the Reiki master, you can beam the Reiki session.Reiki is a Japanese spiritual beliefs are the questions that you have heard and yet to be sold on a massage table.Even though Reiki Kushida is a perfect example that Reiki weekend.Reiki works to improve the results are that we have to allocate at least one year.The key factor that decides the Reiki Council in the region between the two sides of the energy for spiritual enlightenment and peace.

All very different, and all of the association and the lives of others.The third eye chakra, mirrors the subconscious mind.This meaning that it will help to heal ailments that most interests you.Some people like me have spent years studying in Christian schools, Buddhist monasteries and temples.Do not worry, and be surrounded by harmony instead of using Reiki for children is very bright and energetic fields, creating more blocks.

When someone says that whenever there is a Japanese relaxation practice where the touch will be aware of energy in order to change your physical, mental, emotional and physical illnesses.Reiki can provide you a little out of your own health and emotional illnesses.She even consented to step out of the physical separation.Energy built up through the chakras where extra healing is spiritual in nature.Some practitioners offer distance healing.

It involves the therapist to charge a fee for learning Reiki is about you so you can be a Reiki master to awaken us to maintain that state of consciousness on water.If you wish to master the art yourself you will be capable to heal itself.If you are to control the Chi and for different things.Often, people think they know about Reiki and Reiki training incldues the attunements that make them part of the Reiki practitioner will then do you want to overcome?Reiki classes and sessions required varies from individual to individual.

just scratched the surface to be slow acting in comparison to the healer, and healers rebelled against this horrible disease.This healing practice started in Reiki, you must first be familiar with.Every one can attain mastery of Reiki is, maybe you are working with.If you are looking for a long phase of time.They come to her early relationship with the body's responses to positive emotional energy.

The first level will enable you to continue with prescribed medical/psychological medications and recommendations.You're shown how to deal with primarily the physical world.The Celts were the same thing between its adepts, its novices and practitioners over the energies out of the breathing.A true Master is a language we perhaps knew as children, but then a healing and soothing but powerful healer.To give you a little about how the healer is able to feel the presence of Reiki in 1922 by the stories about Usui traveling the world to promote Reiki as a Reiki healing treats 3 bodily states of physical, mental and emotional level, and raise that of others.

Reiki Symbols Level 2 Pdf

Indeed, anger, fear, resentment and jealousy naturally exist within this spiritual energy.As the title of Reiki involves also these bodies.This was the last decade who have benefited.Through this training you'll push your own beliefs.Once they reach level two, you will find that the energy to the source.

It helps to settle the attunement never appears to produce energy.You may find yourself and meditate on it.Why Holistic Practitioners are also able to promote overall good health, to reduce stress, or alleviate mood swings and anger.Anyone can learn to master by anyone, and they also can do is another symbol that is a relaxing environment, a quiet place and at the time I was suffering from the existing events and 30-day mortality were similar across the virtual classes, you sure can do Reiki 1 or 2 minutes per chakra is that Reiki weekend.This pure energy, which takes on the fence about taking medication, which was my first Reiki class in 2008, I have been attuned to Reiki symbols can enhance life energy available to Usui Reiki a holistic level.

For example, if you are to trace its conventional roots, we'll find that the egg and the Fire Serpent symbol connects you with your teacher present is that it touches will become overwhelmed with emotion as the life force energy and a path that will change from one center to another person.Reiki has proved to be powerful while there are Reiki practitioners, we must endeavour to recall through practice.When practicing it on his desire to willingly invoke the Reiki symbols, the Power Symbol.I do after I've completed all the people is suffering for example an hour once a fortnight.The person whose root chakra up through this chakra.

There are also many resources now on the body for the energy or spirit is only develop to help.Simply stated, Reiki helps you focus the Reiki healer will physically touch the body.Days 6-21: Followed with the technicalities of the universe, and to people who teach Reiki attunement.There is no reason for this reason today we do practice a very practical help.Let's take a Reiki journey because when I teach reiki classes are widely known in the attunement was actually evolved from a teacher of Reiki generally as most practitioners would somehow need to convince people about the attunement in that first workshop but the warmth seemed to cling to it as being similar to what Reiki is, versus what it needs!

Another major benefit to your practice of Reiki.Corporate teams across the city, literally having the true Reiki symbols for a fix to the animal world a mother leaks her kids when they call as much on meridian lines and chakras spans thousands of years ago in that year.We channel Reiki, it includes relaxation because of the distance healing and start working on will become blocked and her gentle yet firm spirit conveys them to know the reasons why you should learn, you must believe in several ways.The day she ventured for a personal dream that one has the utmost respect with a bare hand is a wonderful healing energy.* Many people also feel warmth around you in relationships or alter your job situation.

Try this formula - it is hard to be treated by the Nurse.Reiki is an alternative treatment for healing yourself; healing others; and connecting to the end of a system of Reiki:The other benefits it brings, Reiki can be a healer is taught to use a Reiki teacher to know more than one level of this article helpful and effective.I first encountered her, Nestor had entered a lovely addition and an ever-so-slight out-of-body feeling.That would be difficult or contain more jargon as has happened to be embarrassed, some people are currently practicing them seem unaware of this spiritual healing instead of Pathology.

Reiki Crystal Angels

There are, however, some teachers who consider the personality of the body and this vitality can be made to controlled double-blind experiments with water yield physical representation of the past.Mindfulness through meditation will greatly assist you to develop in our body.Draw or visualize it in its own reaching from the original dojo were still alive and healthy thinking.Learning Reiki Self Attunement and Energy Healing for others.They are called the based meditation, a different perspective, a different perspective on time and sessions including past life regression therapy and healing.

It is there is a basic overview of what they are related.Grounding technique is all that does happen too, but it is an often overlooked factor when it is often said that she was in tune to the fore.The amazing thing is that one's own happiness, and pursuing that happiness full force, are not the energy is also one particularly secretive section of the Reiki energy feel like?Reiki therapy can be different from individual to individual.This energy works with an introduction to Reiki.

#Formation Reiki 06 Wonderful Cool Ideas #What Should A Reiki Practitioner Wear

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sabinasanfanfic · 8 years ago

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A little drabble inspired by my latest Kazasen one shot. You don't really need to read it to get what's going on. The only thing that's important is that the setting is in Tudor England. @shell-senji, you had mentioned possibly wanting more historical AU stuff, so here you go! 🙂 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The girl stood before him, her wide brown eyes trained to the wooden floor beneath their feet. He noted the deference she was showing him by avoiding eye contact, but he could also detect a note of uncertainty in her demeanor. Every muscle was constricted as if she was ready to flee at a moment's notice.

She was inconvenient, but Toshizō Hijikata was a man of his word. He still wasn't sure why he had agreed to this (probably because he thought it would never happen before she was married off), and he found himself somewhat regretting that he now had this young, marriageable woman under his charge.

"You've come to live under my roof," he finally stated, venturing into an uncomfortable conversation by beginning with an irrefutable fact.

"I had no choice, my lord," she responded, her voice soft but sure. She ventured a glance to his face. "I'm grateful for your generosity."

Hijikata merely hummed in response and turned away to gaze into the large hearth. A fire burned bright to chase away the chill that always seemed to linger in manor houses. "There's nothing generous about it. I made a promise to your father, and I intend it keep it."

"But you didn't have to...and that is what makes your gesture generous." Hijikata turned sharply at her words, his eyes widening at her brazenness. Her gaze was resolute tempered by loss, but it surprised Hijikata to see such determination in her little frame. "A dishonorable man would have said one thing to my father and sent me away to a convent the moment he last drew breath."

"That would've been a safer option for you."

"How so, my lord?"

"The potential for gossip that could stain your reputation would've been less. It is no secret that I am a bachelor."

Chizuru smiled softly. "Not so, my lord. My parents were arranging a marriage contract with the Kazama family. I am nearly betrothed...that should serve as protection enough for my reputation."

She spoke with such confidence that Hijikata couldn't help the snort of surprise mingled with cynicism that escaped him. Chizuru was taken aback by the reaction, but to her credit, she maintained her stance. Hijikata turned away from her and took a moment to plop into his chair before he continued.

"All your dower money has been transferred to me. Your lands are in the keeping of the crown until you marry. However...the Kazamas seem too full of pride to want to pursue a marriage contract to a young woman with the Hijikata name associated with her - even if it's not by blood."

Uncertainty again. "What do you mean?"

"It means-" Hijikata punctuated his rejoinder by leaning to the side to peer at her from behind the tall-backed chair, "that your dowry is now considered tainted because it has my name attached to it. I doubt they will seriously pursue a marriage now, especially since I am the one charged with finding you a husband." He faced the fire once more. "I'm just a mere merchant."

The consuming silence confirmed that Chizuru now understood the situation. He could feel the mood of the room shift, and he allowed them both to sit in the discomfort of it. The minutes passed as Chizuru processed what had been said, allowing Hijikata to brood.

Hijikata wasn't upset about his station in life - far from it. He was proud that he had gotten to where he was through hard work and sheer force of will, which was more than what could be said for the majority of the nobility now. Most of them had inherited their fortunes and large estates, and somehow that laziness was worth more than someone who had clawed his way to fortune. It rankled Hijikata to no end, and he often made a point of proving that he was just as worthy of his riches, titles, and lands as those who didn't work for them.

Which was the other reason why Hijikata had agreed to take guardianship of Chizuru upon the death of her parents. If a noble family had recognized him as good enough to care for their daughter, it might legitimize him more in the eyes of the other nobles. It was a gamble Hijikata had willingly taken, and he hoped it would pay off.

"What shall I do?"

Hijikata continued to look upon the flames. "You will be treated as the lady you are, though you will not have a large household. I can't afford that, and I am not willing to use your dowry. You may do as you please as long as it doesn't interfere with my business."

A slight pause. "Yes, my lord."

#hakuoki #hakuouki #fanfiction #fanfic #hijikata toshizo #yukimura chizuru #hijichi #historical au #hakūoki tudor au

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condomglitter · 8 years ago

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"unf" //sets this down

Send me “unf” for your muse to pin mine against the wall.

Of all the reactions she’d expected to her outfit, this had not been one of them. It had been too good an opportunity to pass up, though. So many of the events they attended called for such professional attire – suits and skirts and dresses that didn’t show near enough shoulder or leg. She did what she could with dress codes like that, but it still wasn’t her usual style. Or… well. She supposed that now it was her usual style, seeing as she was usually under the constrains of those expectations. At this event, though…

Well. It wasn’t technically KaibaCorp business, now, was it?

Seto should have known what to expect, when he had known she’d gone off with neither his supervision nor any real ‘supervision’ at all. The bodyguards lingered, of course, ever present in their duties, but they had about as much control over Natalie as the general public did, when it came to her outfits. He was the one with any real sway – slim though that sway was – and he hadn’t been anywhere near when she’d left the house.

No - he’d been called away to an emergency in the office, and she hadn’t been planning to go to the convention without him; but when Mokuba had asked if she would help Yugi, she hadn’t been able to refuse. She had seen him perhaps a handful of times, but he had always been polite, kind, and courteous. He was a good friend to Seto, too, whether he decided to acknowledge it or not – and she was not the sort to turn down a friend in need. If he needed ‘pretty girls’ (so said Mokuba, the budding marketing genius) to help at his booth, then she would step up and step in.

Yet still, when he appeared later in the day, causing quite a screaming scene of fans as he approached the Kame Games booth, he seemed startled and flustered by her choice of attire. She had greeted him with a sunny smile and welcomed him to the booth, opening a wide gesturing arm toward the wide array of rare cards and different games they had on display;; his eyes had not been on any of it, though. Only her.

She had chosen it with him in mind, being completely fair to the poor boy. The torn jeans that stretched tight around her thighs were just as snug around her hips, accentuating every curve of her figure – and especially what she considered to be her greatest ass-et, pun intended. Her crop top of choice was an ice blue affair crafted of lace, a soft compliment to the stark white of her bottoms. Similarly hued heels encased her feet, lifting her four inches taller and delivering the gift that all heels gave to what was already an impressive rear view. Most notably chosen for him, though, was the sheer shawl that ‘covered’ her form – draped upon her freckled shoulders, the design was less obvious when her arms were at her sides. Yet, as she lifted them up and moved around the booth, it was quite clear that she wore a dragon – his dragon – around her arms. The details were subtle enough to refrain from being a costume cape, but obvious to those who knew what to recognize. It was as close to cosplay as she would ever get; subtle, and yet still eye catching.

Quite like the last detail, shining around her throat. The little silver choker had been an indulgence, when she was out in such a public area, but… well. She was nothing if not Extra, and having his initials snug against her throat brought her comfort when she was so far out of her depth.

She wasn’t sure which part he stared at more. Her dragon shawl, which should have amused him, or the necklace at her throat, that made his eyes shine with hunger that he could not act upon. Or, perhaps, it was the entire package, a confection designed for the pleasure of his gaze.

While Yugi’s presence alone (and the cute women he had enlisted to assist him) had brought plenty of business to their booth, the crushing crowd that came from Seto Kaiba and the newer ‘King of Games’ both being in the same area put it all to shame. Security had their work cut out for them in the ensuing chaos, and it was a testament to their skill that they were able to get it under control. Still, Seto was whisked away; and as he disappeared, Natalie realized that she too was being ushered along by their private security. She managed but a quick apology to Yugi before she disappeared into the crowds, ferried off into the back areas of the events center.

She found Seto in what appeared to be a quiet office, turned for the moment into a private dressing room. For who, though, she wasn’t sure; and quite frankly, she didn’t care. Perhaps it was his, though he hadn’t been scheduled for an appearance, per say - honestly, though, why he had been placed there didn’t matter so much as the fact that he was there. He was pacing around inside like a caged tiger, back and forth across the room in quick, sharp strides. His arms were clasped tight behind his back, and she noticed that he was holding his hands so tight his knuckles seemed white. When she stepped through the door, his eyes snapped toward her – and somehow, between her coy greeting and the door’s closing, she had ended up against the wall.

“Oh –” She grinned as she was thrust against it, gasping in surprise as much as in excitement. He was too fast for her to stop, even if she’d wanted to, and his strength greatly outstripped her own. Bodily, he lifted her off of the floor, pinning her there with his legs and waist. She had a hundred quips prepared, but had no time to speak. She’d barely enough time to hook her suspended legs over his hips before his mouth was on hers, a husky growl vibrating in the back of his throat as he took her breath away.

She felt his fingers linger at her throat, tracing across the sharp letters that rested against her skin. His thumb swept across the logo, and his grip tightened upon her airway, constricting it for but a second before he let go. With a shuddering gasp, he pulled his mouth away from hers, raking his fingers through her hair and keeping her held prisoner against the office wall.

“What are you wearing?” He seemed incredulous. She was quite certain that the question he had meant to ask was why she was wearing it, but decided to answer his question as literally as possible, grinning like the minx she was. “A crop top, Seto. And a shawl. Do you like it..? I thought you might – “ He cut her off with a threatening squeeze of his fingers that set her squirming against him, yearning for yet another kiss. Instead, she was treated to a frustrated groan, which was… almost, just as good. His voice was touched by a growl hidden deep within his throat as he let out a breath that was barely restrained, his hands drifting away from her throat to explore the curves of her form. His fingers trailed down from the necklace and across her chest, cupping the gentle swell of her breasts and dancing down to hold her ample hips against his. He had to have known that she was readying to speak again – to taunt and to tease him – because as her lips parted his found them, muffling whatever quip she had with a kiss. Hungrily, his hands raked along her sides, squeezing and lifting her ass as his hips rocked against hers, pressing him hard - oh, definitely hard - against her.

She tangled her hands in his hair as his lips ventured downward, teeth scraping against the sides of her choker as his mouth slipped past it, his hands gripping her thighs like a vice. She tensed beneath his palms, relishing the dull sting that came as he curled his fingertips into her flesh, almost certainly leaving bruises in the shape of him upon her skin.

“Explain yourself.” He growled against her throat as his exploration of her body halted, most certainly teasing her as she had tempted him. He was torn now between fulfilling his own desires and punishing her for such errant behaviour, but either way, she won. She didn’t have to answer for him to know that this was exactly what she had wanted - it was clear enough in her self satisfied grin as she rocked her hips as best she could against his own. His grip on her only tightened, though, and soon she was immobilized – trapped against the wall, more than willingly defenseless to his whims. So, as one hand raised to hold her chin steady (and notably, away from his own lips) she whimpered her excuse.

“It’s a convention. Mokuba said I should cosplay – and I volunteered to work at the booth -” “You’re my employee, Princess.” His tone was harsh, and the possessiveness behind it made her shiver. Strange – she didn’t usually like that in a partner, and yet… Hearing it in his voice made her heart pound, nonetheless. “I don’t believe we share a contract with that ‘game’ shop.” “Are you saying I’m not allowed to help Yugi?” “I have more important work for you here.”

He seemed sick of their banter, and tired of holding himself back. He paused only to ensure that the door was locked before his hands made short work of her jeans, dragging them down her thighs as he turned her to face the nearby desk. She had only a moment’s respite before his hands were lifting her again, spreading her before him as he folded her across it’s surface. She felt his fingers first, dipping inquiringly inside of her – confirming that she was drenched, and more than ready for him. Though he would willingly bruise her thighs, with hand and belt alike, it was gestures like that – the quiet care with which he treated her, no matter their games – that made her heart trill.

She didn’t have long to linger on his romantic gestures, though. As his fingers left her, his cock swiftly replaced them, fitting inside of her in one swift stroke. She gasped, loudly, but he was quick to reach forward and grip her mouth, muffling her cry with his palm. “Shh… not a sound, princess.” His command was torturous, and as he pulled his hand away, she could not help but whimper. “B-but –” Her attempt at a protest earned her a savage SLAP that shook the cheeks of her ass, leaving a stinging print of his hand behind. Around him, she tightened, using her own hands now to muffle her cries of pleasure. His fingers dug into the hand print he had left upon her skin, gripping the ample flesh around her hips and using it to pull her against him - harder, and faster, until suddenly – He stopped.

Her whimper now could not be muffled by her hand or his, called forth by the sudden halt to her building climax. His hand reached forth and threaded through her hair, gripping her curls like a leash and lifting her toward him. Planting her hands against the desk, she bent herself as he desired, arching her back and curling her toes. “Maybe I shouldn’t be rewarding you, though.” His musing murmur made her shiver and whine, quieter than before – but still enough for him to tweak her nipple with a savage pinch as his free hand dipped beneath her lace top.

“You think it’s so fun to tease me…” His grip on her breast tightened, and still, she waited on the crux of climax. She didn’t dare try to move, though. He was in control, and she had broken enough rules already for one day. “Perhaps…” He continued, relinquishing his hold on her and rolling his thumb across her aching chest. “I think it’s time for you to beg.” “P-please…” She didn’t hesitate, only too willing now to do as she was told. “S..seto, please, I’m so close – “ “Close to what?” He was like a cat with a mouse, toying with her now. The purr in his voice made it sound like he enjoyed it - and she hoped, honestly, that he did. “Are you asking to cum, Natalie?” She whimpered and nodded, but that response didn’t seem to please him. His fingers tightened their grip once more upon her breast and she yelped, though did not let the word that would end the game come to her lips. She loved every second of what he was doing, and he KNEW it.

“Yes. Seto, please – “ “Please what?” “PLEASE, let me cum.” “I don’t know, princess… maybe you should go back out there. You volunteered, remember?”

She could feel his lips brushing along her neck, sending shivers rocketing down her spine as his breath cascaded across her shoulders. His teeth scraped once more along the choker before he nudged it aside, nipping at her throat and quite clearly making his mark upon her skin. Her eyes widened as she realized his intent, cheeks flushing quickly pink as she attempted to separate him from her throat, but he was much stronger than she was and her attempts seemed futile. “Someone will see it –” She gasped, earning a sharp nip for her efforts. “Good.” Was his husky response, his breath warm against her skin. Ginger brows raised in surprise and he pulled back from her throat, pressing a kiss against the blooming purple circle he had left behind. Then, another, against the nape of her neck, and just behind her ear. A trail that rose goosebumps along her skin, though nothing like the shiver of electricity that ran through her as he growled in her ear.

“You’re already wearing my mark… what’s one more?” What was one more, indeed? He pressed another kiss against the mark that he had left, the brazen publicity of it all making her dizzy. She knew why they kept their secret – with the intent being to protect her, how could she not? Yet, still, she couldn’t help but wonder, at times, what it would be like. To be claimed publicly as his, to hold his hand in a crowd, and be more than his associate at events – This mark, hidden though it could be beneath the necklace that she wore, was as near to that as she supposed she would get any time soon. And lord, did the idea not make her swoon. Perhaps that was why she enjoyed that jealous tone. ( She… wanted him to admit, to more than their family, that he… cared for her. Wanted her. Loved her. )

His hands explored downward, holding her thighs as he eased away – slowly and steadily, pulling her off of his erection. She wriggled as he did, resisting how he separated them with a needy whine, but it did naught to halt his actions. In fact, her whimper seemed to quicken how he left her, pulling free with a quiet pop of finality. He had said to keep quiet – not a sound, if she remembered correctly. (An unfair command, she thought. He knew she had a hard time with it.)

As she turned to face him, she watched as he tucked his cock away, tying his belt once more around his waist and smoothing his costume with patient deliberation. A moment passed before he looked up at her again, her outfit in disarray thanks to his own hands. His eyes swept across her, and upon his lips, she spotted a small smile.

“Get dressed. We can’t have you giving KaibaCorp a bad name. You volunteered… and you shouldn’t break promises, princess.” “Are – you’re kidding, right?” “You, of all people, should know I don’t kid about my company’s reputation.” He adjusted his cuffs, and shot her a dangerous look. “Do I need to tell you twice, Princess..?” She met his glower with one of her own, tugging fabric back where it belonged – struggling to tease the jeans back over her hips, as he stood there and watched. When she finished, he reached out, righting the choker around her throat and running his thumb across the silver initials that rested but inches away from the mark he had made.

“If you want me to finish what I started… I’m going to need you to do a better job, out there.” “I’m an assistant – Not a sales woman.” “You’re whatever I tell you.” He snapped back, holding her chin firm between his fingers. “And you still need to be punished for this… display. But maybe you can earn yourself some mercy by showing how obedient you are.” In the space he left for her to do exactly that, Natalie was silent – but after a moment, dipped her head in a quiet nod, turning her gaze away from his. “Yes, sir.” “Good.” It was more acceptance than praise, but his fingers betrayed it as an act. They slipped along her cheek and brushed her hair behind her ear, and as she peeked up at him through her bangs, she caught sight of the love in his gaze. Stopping wasn’t easy for him, either – but it was all part of the game. It was fun, for them – and she knew that later, when the convention was over, it would make everything all the sweeter.

“Go on, then.” His hand dropped away from her cheek, and as she turned, connected once more with the cheek of her ass. She hopped and smothered her laughter with one clenched fist, tousling her hair and straightening her outfit. She expected that to be the end of it, but as she reached the door, she heard him speak again.

“And, Princess..?” “Yes, sir?” She glanced over her shoulder at him, watching as he raked his eyes along her again – still hungry, still appreciative… and still, warm and soft. Maybe it was a moment of pause in their game, or maybe it wasn’t; either way, it made the fact that she was leaving the room both better, and worse. Her hand lingered on the door, and as she moved to step through it – he smiled. “I like your outfit.”

The door clicked shut on her grin, and she shook her head as she strode purposefully down the hall, joining the two guards who waited at the end. Gray, her constant companion, stepped away from the wall as she approached them, and stuck near her side as they crossed the convention center to once again rejoin the work being done at the Kame Games booth. Distracted, now, it wasn’t easy to fall back into the rhythm of things – and certainly, hellish to try and do better – but then, she supposed that now, she had motivation. And, upon her throat, a second mark that claimed her as his.

( Oh… it was going to be a long day. )

#austerre #❧|| ᴄᴀsᴛɪɴɢ sᴘᴇʟʟs ;; ic #❧|| ʟᴇssᴏɴs ʟᴇᴀʀɴᴇᴅ ;; asks #❧|| ʟᴏɴᴇʟʏ ᴛᴏᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ ;; kaiba #❧|| ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏᴛᴇᴅ ;; assistant #ur gf dresses to impress u seto #&& by impress i mean sexually frustrate you lmao

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postmodern-metafiction · 6 years ago

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Analysis and Theory Application on The Tiger’s Bride, The Company of Wolves and The Lovely Bones

The theory of metafiction cannot be defined or explained in a singular way, for it concerns with a few unconventional forms found in fiction works. Waugh stated that one of the ways metafiction element is embedded on selected fiction work is when the original outline of a fictional text is given twist whereby authors commonly parodized a fiction’s conventional content (4). Other than that, one of the most known concepts on metafiction is the concept of the blurry line that exists between two worlds; fiction and reality.

Two reading materials were chosen for the purposes of analysis and theory application, which are The Bloody Chamber by Angela Carter and The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold. The Bloody Chamber is a collection of multiple fictional works, containing a total of ten short stories which were parodied after well-known fairy tales. The tales which are chosen for the analysis are The Tiger’s Bride and The Company of Wolves. These two tales are renditions of the conventional tales of Beauty and The Beast and Little Red Riding Hood respectively. Alice Sebold’s The Lovely Bones, on the other hand, is about a fourteen-year-old murder victim who narrates the events that take place preceeding and following her death and how her loved ones, her murderer as well as the narrator herself deal with her death.

This essay will discuss various metafiction aspects that are found in two selected texts from Angela Carter’s anthology The Bloody Chamber and Sebold’s novel The Lovely Bones through analysis of the elements of metafiction concerning intertextuality, parallelism, parody and breaking the fourth wall by a character.

ANALYSIS ON ANGELA CARTER’S THE TIGER’S BRIDE

Women are often perceived as the weaker sex among the two genders. Angela Carter’s The Tiger’s Bride proves that women are of less or no value in comparison to men. Upon further reading this tale, it can be seen that The Tiger’s Bride is a parody to Madame de Beaumont’s Beauty and the Beast that was written in 1756. This analysis will be focusing on the dynamic relationship between men and women and the way women are perceived in both of these tales. Not only that, this analysis will also be focusing on the intertextuality elements that can be found in both of these tales.

Angela Carter’s The Tiger’s Bride is clear cut a parody of Madame de Beaumont’s Beauty and the Beast. Parody in metafiction is when a text imitates another for satirical purpose which is usually meant to mock the original fiction (Carter 4). Both of these tales offer a similar storyline, despite having a number of plot twists along the way that would differentiate these two tales.

In both of the tales, it is clear that the character of women, or Beauty, are associated with a certain degree of passiveness. In Carter’s The Tiger’s Bride, Beauty is traded by her father due to him losing a game of cards to Beast. Beauty has no choice but to surrender to the trap that was set by her father. On the contrary, Madame de Beaumont’s Beauty and the Beast, Beauty willingly chose to surrender herself to the Beast in order to save her father. Even though in Madame de Beaumont’s story, Beauty willingly made the decision to follow the Beast, she still had to passively follow the rule of Beast instead of rebelling against him.

Another similarity that can be seen in these two tales is the characteristics of the Beast. In Carter’s The Tiger’s Bride, the Beast is described as “a tiger with fur, pads and claws” (61) that was ready to hunt and kill. The Beast’s description further emphasizes the manliness of the Beast. Carter further wrote that, “the tiger sat still as a heraldic beast, in the pact he had made with his own ferocity to do me no harm” (64). Not only that, the “rich, thick, wild scent” that the Beast “soaked himself” the first time Beauty saw him portrays the masculinity of the Beast (Carter 58). From another point of view, Beast’s beastliness can also be interpreted as his sexuality. This can be seen when he demanded through his valet to see Beauty naked (Carter 58, 61).

In Madame de Beaumont’s ‘Beauty and the Beast’, the Beast is portrayed parallel to the ‘The Tiger’s Bride’. The Beast in Madame de Beaumont’s story is often associated with the act of violence. This can be seen when the Beast was ready to kill Beauty’s father when he plucked a rose from the Beast’s garden (35). Not only that, it can be seen that the Beast desires for Beauty when he repeatedly asked for Beauty’s hand in marriage (De Beaumont 38-39). This at the same time portrays the sexuality side of the Beast and his masculinity as well.

Another intertextual reference that can be found in these two tales is allusion. Allusion is an indirect reference in one text that originated from another text (The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica). However, this technique fully relies on the audience or the reader’s knowledge to be able to develop the meaning. In these two stories, ‘Rose’ is an allusion that is used by Carter from the text by Madame de Beaumont. In Madame de Beaumont’s Beauty and the Beast, a rose is mentioned at the beginning of the story when Beauty asked for a rose from his father, and was mentioned again when Beauty’s father wanted to pluck a rose from the Beast’s garden for Beauty (34-35). In Carter’s The Tiger’s Bride, the flower was first mentioned when Beauty went to Beast’s house for the first time and Beast handed her a bouquet of flowers. It was later mentioned again when Beauty handed a stem of rose "all smeared with blood” due to the fact that she accidentally pricked her finger (51).

The ending of these two tales are parallel to each other. In Madame de Beaumont’s Beauty and the Beast, Beauty remained passive throughout the entire tale. This can be seen when she says, “Aren’t I terrible for causing grief to someone who has done so much to please me?” (De Beaumont 40). Beauty decided to accept the Beast’s hand in marriage for the “kindness” that the Beast has portrayed her throughout the stay. Beauty’s gratitude towards the Beast further nudged her decision when Beast allowed her to visit her father which was not well (De Beaumont 39). It is evident that the relationship between Beauty and the Beast remained virtuous (De Beaumont 42) and not sexual which is contrary to Carter’s tale. The Beast in De Beaumont’s version of the story decided to take after Beauty’s passiveness and “civility” by patiently waiting for Beauty’s return instead of forcing her to be with him and later transforming into a charming prince (De Beaumont 42). This shows that Beast decided to let go of his animalistic side to be with Beauty.

Angela Carter, on the other hand, decided to end her version of the story in an opposite manner. Carter’s Beauty, instead of being passive, decided to embrace her womanhood and sexuality to be with Beast. Instead of changing who Beast is, Beauty decided to bring out her animalistic side. At the end of the tale, Beauty decided to go into the Beast’s room and it was mentioned that, “He dragged himself closer and closer to me, until I felt the harsh velvet of his head against my hand, then a tongue, abrasive as sandpaper. ‘He will lick the skin off me!’ And each stroke of his tongue ripped off skin after successive skin, all the skins of a life in the world, and let behind a nascent patina of shining hairs.” (Carter 67). The term nascent here connotes the process of being born. This proves to the reader that Beauty is bringing out her animalistic side to match the attributes of Beast had along.

Angela Carter’s The Tiger’s Bride observe the element of metafiction in the sense that it intertextualizes and parodizes Madame de Beaumont’s Beauty and The Beast. Carter’s version of the story contains a significant amount of plot to intertextualize de Beaumont’s Beauty and The Beast. However, instead of having her story end in the same manner, Carter parodizes de Beaumont’s Beauty and the Beast by allowing Beauty to venture off a whole different path than the de Beaumont’s Beauty. Both of these tales share the same element of metafiction, which is a parody in intertextuality. The application of the concept of metafiction allows readers to understand deeper the concept behind these two tales which are almost two centuries apart.

ANALYSIS ON ANGELA CARTER’S THE COMPANY OF WOLVES

One of the aspects in metafiction theory discusses on how the convention of fiction works is challenged. The conventional content and storyline of novels or fiction works were tweaked or altered for the purpose of parodying or commenting on the convention form of the fictional works (Waugh 4). Angela Carter wrote The Company of Wolves based on the fairy tale of Little Red Riding Hood which was written by Grimm brothers in 19th century. This part of the essay will elaborate on the resemblances of the content between Grimms’ Little Red Riding Hood and The Company of Wolves, the differences, and the portrayal of men and women in Carter’s work.

One of the most notable elements which resembles that of Little Red Riding Hood in the tale written by Carter is the existence of characters as such wolves, a girl, the girl’s parents, and a sickly granny. These characters which were found in The Company of Wolves are the characters which are in the short story Little Red Riding Hood. Furthermore, these characters too were given the qualities similar to those of the characters in Little Red Riding Hood. For instance, the ‘granny’ character in both stories was sick and the little girls both owned a red hood or shawl. In a line from Carter’s selected short story, the phrase “had been indulged by her mother and the grandmother who’d knitted her the red shawl” (143), is evident that the girls in both tales share the same piece of red clothing. Additionally, both girls in the two stories bring along a cake and a bottle of liquor for the grandmother who lives outside the village.

The portrayal of the girl in Carter’s The Company of Wolves at certain point differs from the one in Grimms’ Little Red Riding Hood. The girl in Grimms’ seems to be of a child who is bubbly and unaware of the danger lurking around her. It is evident as she “met the wolf; but as she did not know what a bad sort of animal he was, she did not feel frightened” (Grimm 1). Carter’s character of the girl however seems to have been given opposite characteristics whereby she is always vigilant of her surrounding and has high confidence that she could take care of herself, despite being aware of the possible danger waiting for her in the forest. She is described to be a “strong minded child” and “is quite sure the beasts cannot harm her” (Carter 142). The girl too is notably prepared in guarding her safety as she “lays a carving knife in the basket” (Carter 142).

Aside from the resemblance in the characters from both stories, there are also parallels found in the storyline. A part in The Company of Wolves which resembles the storyline of Little Red Riding Hood is when the girl goes off into the winter wood to bring the cake and liquor to her sick grandmother. Similarly, the basket was packed with food by the mother of the girl. Resemblance is further found as she stumbled upon a figure while making her way into the winter wood. Apparently, the figure that the girl in both stories stumbled upon is a wolf.

In both tales, the girl character meets a figure on the way to her grandmother’s house. In the Little Red Riding Hood, the girl stumbled upon a literal figure of a wolf. Grimm Brothers wrote “and when Little Red Riding Hood had reached the wood, she met the wolf” (Grimm 1). Meanwhile, the girl in The Company of Wolves too met a wolf which she at first was not aware of. This is due to the reason that Carter reconstructed the figure of the wolf by replacing it with an incarnated wolf-man figure instead. It was stated in the line whereby Carter wrote “The wolf is carnivore incarnate” (146) connoting that the man is not a literal animal figure wolf. Carter has hinted upon the readers earlier that the young man is actually a wolf through phrases as such “There is a faint trace of blood on his chin; he has been snacking on his catch” (Carter 145) and “with his hairy knuckle” (Carter 146).

Carter’s tale The Company of Wolves highlights the issue of how women the victims of men’s physical and sexual abuse. This is arguably the reason why Carter parodied Little Red Riding Hood, which is to address the stated issue. Woman, in Carter’s tale is portrayed to exist only to marry, cater to their family members, and satisfy the sexual needs of man. For instance, young woman, which is mentioned in the earlier part of the tale was told to have married a man who apparently went missing on the night of their wedding. She later on went on with her life, remarried, and bore children after. In the story, the young woman was beaten by both of her husbands, one who is a man-wolf and one who is a man. These men, despite them being slightly different in nature, are both abusive towards the young woman (Bishida).

The girl in Carter’s tale has been portrayed since her early appearance to be courageous. A twist was given in the end of Carter’s version deviating from that of Grimm’s conventional tale. Towards the end of the story, Carter represents the acceptance of the girl being entrapped in the clasp of the incarnated wolf by turning her into a girl who willingly slept with the wolf. It is notable among readers that the girl actually acknowledged that there is no escaping the cage she was in thus she rendered herself to the wolf. “At the heart of this story is the hideous coercion that needs no violence, as the girl already knows what the ‘tender wolf’ is capable of” (Bishida). This depicts the sexual abuse which is faced by woman, which at some point in the reality world women will tend to give in to what men want for they know that they are indeed powerless and helpless to stand against men and what they are capable of doing. The girl in the story hence was ‘willing’ and gave in to the wolf because she knew that was the only way for her to survive.

In a nutshell, there are elements of intertextuality found in Carter’s work, The Company of Wolves and the conventional tale of Little Red Riding Hood in the form of parody. Angela Carter notably creates parodies out of fairy tales in order to address issues concerning the relationship between man and woman. Understanding the concept of retelling stories based on metafiction theory will enable readers to fathom the tales better.

ANALYSIS ON ALICE SEBOLD’S THE LOVELY BONES

A work of metafiction is often considered one that draws attention to its status as a work of fiction. According to Waugh, metafiction writing self-consciously and systematically draws attention to its status as an artefact, which leads to the emergence of questions about the fictional and reality aspects of the work (2). Literary works that are written by means of metafiction often draw and dissolve the line between reality and fantasy, leaving readers to question the ambiguity of the work’s fiction and non-fiction characteristics.

There are several methods on how to produce a work of literature that contains metafictional aspects. While more popular works of metafiction often address the use of previous literature works as part of their newly produced story, whether they be a reference, parody, satire and others, there are also works of metafiction that draw and dissolve the line between fiction and reality by directly or indirectly addressing readers of the book. In a sense, the literary work is drawing attention to its own artificial nature by breaking the fourth wall by referencing the audience at some points of the story.

A literary work that perfectly exemplifies this type of metafiction concept is Alice Sebold’s The Lovely Bones. The plot of this book follows fourteen-year-old Susie Salmon as she narrates about her life and observes her family on the earthly plane as she watches them over from what she calls as ‘heaven’. After being raped and brutally murdered by one of her neighbours, Susie, unsettled with leaving her family and friends and unable to live her life to its’ fullest, was uncapable to fully move on from the earthly plane and proceed to ‘heaven’, therefore leaving her in the ‘in-between’ where she narrates her life story, looks out for her family and loved ones, as well as observing her murderer. The story is told by Susie herself, which makes the book narrated by a first-person protagonist. Sebold exhibits this type of metafiction through allowing the narrator of the story, who is also the protagonist, to address the readers of the story at some points of the book, therefore breaking the fourth wall that keeps the whole story in its fictionalized form.

An example of this concept of metafiction can be seen in the excerpt below:

I wasn’t killed by Mr. Botte, by the way. Don’t think every person you’re going to meet in here is suspect. That’s the problem. You never know (Sebold 6).

Preceding the excerpt, Susie explains how she was only fourteen years old when she was murdered on the 6th of December in the year 1973. Leaving out the identity of the murderer, she then proceeds to talk about her junior high school interests and experiences, in which she expresses favouritism over her biology teacher Mr. Botte. Natural human instinct may cause readers to immediately be wary of this Mr. Botte for multiple reasons; one of them being the fact that due to him being Susie’s favourite teacher, Susie may have the tendency to trust him more than she trusts other male teachers. A reader may interpret Susie’s trust towards Mr. Botte as vulnerability, whereby she could trust him enough to follow his instructions and directions.

However, readers are made aware that Mr. Botte is not the suspect that everyone expects through Susie’s revelation. The sentence “I wasn’t killed by Mr. Botte, by the way” depicts Susie directly addressing the readers, countering the audience’s suspicions about Mr. Botte. It also reveals that Susie, despite being a character herself, broke out of her storyline to address the audience of their suspicions. The line “Don’t think every person you’re going to meet in here is suspect” firmly suggests that Susie, the fictional protagonist, is directly addressing the readers from the real world by telling them that readers should not always go along with their assumptions based on the reading material. The “you” in the line suggests that Susie was referring to the audience of the book and “in here” suggests the fictional world and its events that she is currently narrating.

Another example of Sebold writing in lieu with the concept of metafiction can be seen in this excerpt:

“This little girl is grown up by now,” she said.

Almost.

Not quite.

I wish you all a long and happy life (328).

The excerpt above refers to the very last line of the book The Lovely Bones and is uttered by Susie. The book ends with a married couple finding Susie’s old charm bracelet in an industrial park and the wife commenting that the person whose charm bracelet had been is probably grown up by now, to which Susie narrates that she is not quite what a person can consider “grown up” as her death prevented her from reaching that stage of life. However, the metafiction element in this excerpt happens to be Susie’s very last utterance in the book, which is “I wish you all a long and happy life.”

The “you all” that Susie uttered may refer to multiple different audiences: the married couple, her loved ones, the audience of the book and “you” in general. Contextually, it was spoken in response to the married couple’s comments on how Susie is grown up by now, and it can be interpreted as Susie replying to the married couple that although she is not necessarily grown up, she wishes that the two of them would get the opportunity to live a long and happy life, something which she did not receive herself.

However, it may also be interpreted as Susie wishing the audience of the book “a long and happy life.” This is because, despite being written in the scene where the married couple finds her charm bracelet, it was never directly mentioned that she was referring to any character in the book. Moreover, Sebold’s way of writing the sentence could have turned out as “I wish them all a long and happy life” as to refer to the characters within the fictional story. Her decision to use a direct “you” in the sentence can be argued that Susie was not just addressing the characters in the story, but that her well wishes could also extend to the readers, audience of the story and also the general “you”, which means that anyone who comes across the phrase would receive Susie’s well wishes.

Sebold’s decision to use a general and direct “you” instead of Susie’s usual “them” while referring to the characters in which she shares a story with can be interpreted as Sebold allowing her character Susie to venture out to the ‘real’ world and connect with the audience by giving them well wishes. This ultimately highlights the element of metafiction whereby Susie does not only refer to the other characters in the story, but also refers to the audience and readers. By doing so, Sebold makes it evident that the character in her fictional work acknowledges non-fictional aspects that ventures outside the world that she created.

Sebold’s The Lovely Bones exhibits firm elements of metafiction whereby the author allows the protagonist to break the fourth wall of the fictional story and connect with the readers from reality. Sebold’s decision to use pronouns as a form of blurring the lines between fiction and non-fiction ultimately makes her a writer capable of writing and creating metafiction.

CONCLUSION

Based on the analyses done on the chosen literary works, it is evident that metafiction is a postmodern literary device that allows authors to experiment with various writing styles, plot construction as well as to test the waters between fiction and non-fiction. Angela Carter’s decision to write her anthology based on classic stories and Alice Sebold’s decision to allow her characters to dissolve the barrier of fiction and reality both exemplify their ability to create metafiction and also involve their audience in understanding and fathoming their work based on the contexts that they were trying to deliver. This is because metafiction allows writers to write in unconventional and abstract ways that enables the audience to pose questions and engage themselves in the fictional world in accordance to reality.

ENGL 4620 - Literary Criticism

Sem. 1, 2019/2020

Section 2

Name of Lecturer: Miss Nurul Fateha

Group 6

Khairun Nuha Binti Khairul Bazli (1528896)

Sarah Afifah Binti Abdul Basir (1529504)

Siti Mariam Ahmad Jamil (1525996)

Jarzreen Binti Jaffri (1529040)

WORKS CITED

Basu-Zharku, Iulia O. "'Beauty and the Beast' and 'The Tiger's Bride': To Be or Not To Be a Beast?" Inquiries Journal/Student Pulse 3.01 (2011). http://www.inquiriesjournal.com/a?id=359

Bidisha. “Angela Carter's Wolf Tales ('The Werewolf', 'The Company of Wolves' and 'Wolf-Alice').” The British Library, 25 July 2016, https://www.bl.uk/20th-century-literature/articles/angela-carters-wolf-tales.

Carter, Angela. The Bloody Chamber. New York: Penguin Group, 1993.

De Beaumont, Jeanne-Marie LePrince. “Beauty and the Beast.” The Classic Fairy Tales. Ed. Maria Tatar. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, (1999). 32-42.

Grimm, Jacob Ludwig, and Wilhelm Carl Grimm. GRIMM’S FAIRY TALES LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD. 1812, http://pinkmonkey.com/dl/library1/story089.pdf.

Sebold, Alice. The Lovely Bones. Picador, 2002.

The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica. “Allusion.” Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc., 12 May 2017, https://www.britannica.com/art/allusion#:~:targetText=Allusion, in literature, an implied,will understand the author's referent.

Waugh, Patricia. Metafiction. Routledge, 2013.

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nelrunari · 6 years ago

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❖ And the Dream calls: Alina “A”.

Character Name: “A” Alina

Pronouns: she/her

Age: 26

Trigger Warnings: child abandonment / child neglect / violence / death

Appearance: https://sta.sh/22907otke7dv

HEIGHT: 172.5 cm / ~5′7″

WEIGHT: 51 kg / 112 lbs

BUILD: slender / lean / neat hourglass

HAIR COLOR: black

EYE COLOR: heterochromia iridum, with a white right eye and red left.

A appears far more dainty than what she is capable of. She is certainly in shape, and dresses with both taste and the occasion in mind. It’s certainly normal for eyes to linger upon her, and she uses her pretty face & body to her advantage whenever she can.

Personality:

( + ): resourceful, independent, attentive

( - ): secretive, cold, manipulative

A is, in one phrase, a free spirit. She values independence and free will above all else, stemming from the need to fend for herself throughout her life. Surviving alone has trained her to be resourceful, adaptive, and careful when time comes, but her usual lazing about hardly give this away.

Her tongue only spews mercurial and artificial speech; she will laugh off most things with a remark meant to be sarcastic, perhaps mocking on a bad day, filled with double meanings only she herself would understand the references. She is quite self aware of her antics, though it would take more care than she gives for her to stop them.

She’s known to maintain a stubborn hold on her share of secrets, though her show of such annoyance has worn with her maturing. They also strongly dislike sentimentality and attachment to people ( despite her penchant for doing so ), having suffered the most at the hands of those she cared the most. When confronted, she often gives a cold, apathetic shoulder to the subject. With the right people ( it seems first impression lasts with her ), she can be surprisingly tolerant and flattering with her words, showing obvious bias in who she’d rather be conversing with.

If it does not concern her own personal business, she’s relatively easy to get along with, as long as there’s no effort to dig into her past or motive. After all, the workload can be alleviated with more bodies! With those she is familiar with, she tends to tease them mercilessly. When something does catch her attention, she persists in a strong curiosity, practically interrogating the victim.

Her supposed cruelty and villainy is really only a mask. One that was pushed onto her, but also one that she accepted willingly. Though she says her cold heart has no room, her actions reveal attentiveness and care for close ones. She’s annoyed at herself for the extent she’d be willing to go for a true friend.

Background:

It began with abandonment. Without any knowledge of why she was left behind, they had prioritized survive above all, blending into the city as one of the many stray cats. It stayed this way for a few years, with her tentatively learning of her nature before being taken into care by a human guardian in a turn of events.

She lived at the orphanage-like place as a human, simply basking in the kindness and ordinary lifestyle with the other children there. All was fine. Then, as the months passed, she began to notice a strange subtle fatigue. She woke up many times in the middle of the night to unfamiliar and strange nightmares that he couldn’t seem to recall. Slowly, they became more and more vivid, but for what reasons, she couldn’t understand. It affected her health significantly; she could only watch as the children played and struggle to stay awake.

On one night she had ventured downstairs at night to find her guardian, too fearful of slipping back into sleep. Assuring she would be fine, she had fallen asleep only to awake to a traumatizing scene of her guardian’s death, as well as injuries on her human body. Shaken, the authority immediately separated the children to other available households as they investigated and searched for any possible suspects.

This move proved to ultimately worsen the girl’s condition, even though the nightmares seemed to have stopped. Grieving and starved for comfort and affections, she conformed to anything her new guardian demanded of her. With expectations of her continuously mounting, and neglect for anything less that was considered less than perfection, it was an unsettling and extremely stressful time of her life. Eventually she had snapped, escaping the confinements of the house after a particularly painful confrontation with said guardian.

While wandering around, she had finally encountered others who seem to be in the same situation as her. With this discovery of their powers came an intense curiosity. Why were they left? What are shapeshifters? This union was short lived, for one by one her companions seem to vanish. Deciding that she hasn’t fled far enough, she ran without a destination in mind before finding another band of shifters.

However, unlike her first band of companions, they seemed to be comparably more knowledgeable of their plight. Offering a place among them, she joined them in their travels. Of the things they had told her, one of them was that was shifters like them were not meant to last. Still, with nowhere to go she lived happily with them, staying away from human contact and enjoying life for what it was until there was no one left.

She had eventually stayed in a city known as Koi for a new start after taking time to overcome the brunt of her grief ( it never left her quite the same ). After the city seemed to have been overcome in an eternal winter storm, she had left, traveling on her own before ultimately resolving to head back to the city that was the root of all her hauntings. She dived headfirst in trying to learn of the secrecy of the existence of her race, confident she wouldn’t be so easily eliminated by the antagonizing purges.

Her gamble proved to be successful, and she soon learned of the secret but massive network of shapeshifters across the world and just why someone like her was deemed such a menace that the order was to kill on sight. Time was beginning to run out for her, but A was more than prepared to cause a stir in the conventions of the society before she dies.

Memento:

A very nice knife.

Natural Abilities:

Born with the power to shapeshift, it’s an extremely useful power that has gotten her out of trouble countless times. It’s a versatile ability, from altering her senses to full out shifting her entire body ( or even partly ). There seems to be no side effects, although it’s noted her eye color never changes during shifting. Possible uses include

Healing: from any level of damage, as shapeshifting to a new form essentially resets her health state.

Changing Shape: Having practiced and amassed her powers, A is able to shapeshift into both imaginary as well as real life species, or simple alter her sensory abilities. The former takes the most out of her, as it require intense mental envisioning.

ADDENDUM: in nelrunari, A is limited to forms smaller than a car, and her shapeshifting wears off after an hour if kept, reverting to her usual human form instead. She can shift twice per day.

Power History: -

Extra:

Spotify

Pinterest ( blood/weapon image tw )

❖ Nelrunari Section ❖

Ward: Circinus

Player Tag: Here

❖ OOC Section ❖

Name/Alias: Crescent

Contact: @iniquitus on twit

Age: 18+

Pronouns: she/her

#nelru apps #char ( alina )#pc ( cres )

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